To Stop the Suns from Setting
by Pallas-Athena
Summary: What if Amidala's ship never landed on Tatooine? How would Anakin's life be different?
1. A Glance into My (Night)Life

**Title**: To Stop the Suns from Setting****

**Author: **Pallas-Athena  (uscathena@hotmail.com)****

**Rating: **PG-13 (for violence and implied sexual situations)****

**Category: **Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure/Romance****

**Summary: **Queen Amidala's ship never landed on Tatooine.  Now, nine years after the fact, Anakin Skywalker must face his destiny under new circumstances.  Will he escape from slavery?  Will he still meet Padmé and Obi-Wan?****

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me.****

**Author's Note: **This story is told from Anakin's point of view.  You can also find this story regularly updated at the Jedi Council:  http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=6101124

Thanks for reading!  

_"But you can't stop the change, Ani, any more than you can stop the suns from setting."   
  
-Shmi, The Phantom Menace _  
  
*****

**Part One (3/25/02)**

Mak's Cantina was quite possibly the loudest, darkest, and busiest club on this side of Malastare. Eager patrons lined the sidewalks and wavered in lines going around the corner and across the block. Some would get in, some wouldn't.   
  
Okay, so most wouldn't. But I would.   
  
The music was playing so loud it thumbed in my chest as I neared the door. I casually walked past the losers standing in the line. Some of them looked at me in annoyance or confusion, while others stood on their tiptoes for a much-desired look at the front door.   
  
A bouncer, Fal'nic, was carefully guarding the door when I arrived. He was shoeing away some of the less attractive costumers. He was a Twi'lek, but stronger than most others of his species. He also had a knack for spotting the best and the brightest of the night crowd.   
  
I didn't bother to wait for too long, besides Fal'nic saw me immediately anyway. He waved me over with that hand-claw-whatever thing.   
  
"Skywalker!" he called out. "Move aside, people."   
  
He shoved a few unlucky clubbers out of the way, clearing a path for me, which I accepted with a smug half-grin. The other costumers, now realizing that all their waiting was in vain, started shouting out their complaints.   
  
When I was just about to across the threshold, I heard someone near the bouncer say: "Who the heck does he think he is?"   
  
I saw Fal'nic turn to address the youth out of the corner my eye.   
  
"He's the best podracer on Malastare," the Twi'lek responded. "Heh, probably the best in the galaxy."   
  
"I am the best in galaxy, Fal'nic," I reminded him, without turning around.   
  
I heard the Twi'lek laugh loudly and speak once more to the whiner. "And you, boy, aren't pretty enough for Mak, go home."   
  
Fal'nic laughed again, and I heard the unique sound of his hand giving the boy a hard pat on the back.   
  
I gave a loose grin and continued walking into the club.   
  
Mak's was no five-star restaurant, I can tell you that! If you were to go into it during the day, or sometime similar, when it wasn't as crowded, I honestly don't think you could figure out what the attraction of the place was.   
  
It wasn't much to look at, really - a few tables, booths, and a long bar. Mak's was in truth no different than any of the cantinas I grew up with in Mos Espa. But still, people came, no, they flocked, here.   
  
If you were to ask me what made this place so popular, I'd probably argue that it was the drinks. Well, at least for me it was the drinks.   
  
Now, Mak's was filled with smoke, which created a kind of hazy atmosphere. Red and orange lights - Mak had an affinity for those colors - lit the entire room, causing the fog to look like some type of moist flame. People - humans or what-have-you were dancing and moving about on the dance floor, though I shuffled through them towards the bar.   
  
I took up an empty seat in front of a holo screen. Mak was on the other end of the bar. I decided that I could wait awhile and turned to watch the last section of the holo news.   
  
It was a recording from an earlier speech in the Senate House on Coruscant. Not that the Republic had anything to do with my life … but I found it interesting anyway.   
  
It was an older man, whom the screen labeled as Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. His speech went something like this:   
  
"Honorable Delegates, the time to react to these crimes is now. We have spent years in grips of a corrupt Senate, marred by the power of the bureaucracy. Do I have to remind you of the tragedy that occurred on my own home planet of Naboo? The entire world and her people overthrown by the Trade Federation, a private corporation!" He lifted his arms up in supplication and then lowed them again, his fists clenched.   
  
"They waged war on a defenseless planet," he continued, allowing his voice to reach a pitch, "for what? A trade dispute! Money! Credits! Greed!" He slammed his hand down on the podium to emphasize his point. "No more. This body can no longer function as it was originally intended to."   
  
He waited a moment and the camera captured the expressions of Palpatine's fellow senators. Some were patiently waiting for him to continue, while others looked angry. Some, still, were even sleeping in their little pods.   
  
I found that funny. I had never been to Coruscant. Of course, like everybody else, I wanted to see it before I died. After all, it was the capital of the entire galaxy. Heh, fat chance on that one, Anakin.   
  
Despite the lazy senators, Palpatine droned on.   
  
"That is why I have decided to declare my decision to elect myself Supreme Commander of the Republic. This new position will allow me to oversee all functions of this body and other branches of the government, until I deem that the Senate is ready to have unsupervised control over policy-making. That is all."   
  
The broadcast faded out to the sound of shouting senators. I stared at the holo screen in disbelief. What was that all about?   
  
"The galaxy's falling to pieces around us," was my answer. It was said by a shrill female voice, definitely human.   
  
I turned a bit to lock eyes with a girl roughly my age. (Well, now see, I was about eighteen at the time. I don't really know when my actual birthday is, so I just count it from the first of the year.)   
  
She wore a skirt that was a bit to short for her long legs and a colorful, skin-hugging top. Her annoyingly bouncy blond hair was obviously dyed with some sort of chemical compound and tied loosely back, in the form of a ponytail.   
  
Oh, I knew her type. I planned my move.   
  
"Maybe in the Republic," I reminded her, "but those laws don't apply to us here." She flashed me a toothy smile and sat on the stool next to mine. Absentmindedly, she played with a loose curl and waited for me to say a line.   
  
She must have thought herself attractive to be picked up by a guy like me. I took another look at her. Not too bad, why not?   
  
"You from around here?" I asked.   
  
"No," she shook her head playfully. "Just visiting."   
  
I offered up my most charming smile. "Buy the tourist a drink, then?"   
  
She giggled and nodded. It was just our luck that Mak had come down to our side of the bar.   
  
"Hey, Mak!" I yelled. The toad creature - I never found out what species his was - looked at me and I raised my fingers to form a 'two.' Mak nodded and strode off.   
  
"You didn't tell him what kind of drinks we wanted," Blondie mock pouted.   
  
"Wow, you're quite the tourist indeed," I laughed lightly. "Mak here only serves one kind of drink."   
  
"Oh," she shaped her lips in to a perfect 'O', and then giggled again. Mak came back with two glasses full of a slushy liquid.   
  
"On the house, huh," Mak grumbled. "You won me a lot of money today, Skywalker." I gave him a mock salute with two fingers of my right hand.   
  
"Skywalker," Blondie mused on the name a bit. "Hey, are you that podracer guy?"   
  
I gave a sheepish nod.   
  
"Oh, wow," her already infectious happiness was turned up a few notches. "I saw that race, you were amazing."   
  
I flashed her a smile. I was used to such comments. I'd say I was easily the best podracer around these days, and the only human. My presence in the sport had caused many humans to pay more attention and money to the games. I also had the perks of being a racing star. You see, everybody wins.   
  
Blondie moved a bit to get closer to me. Had she been a few inches over, she would have been sitting on my knee. She giggled again. This was going to be an interesting night.   
  
~   
  
Several hours and many free drinks later, Blondie and I were having a quite colorful conversation. We sat around laughing at ourselves laughing, actually. Mak had moved us to a back booth and ordered his waitress to give us as many drinks as we could swallow.   
  
I don't remember how many I drank, but I knew by the time the club was closing that I was thoroughly drunk. So was Blondie - I never bothered to learn her real name.   
  
She did find the time to tell me the entirety of her life story. She was with her family. Her father was a reporter for some scholarly magazine. Apparently, he was researching an insect native to Malastare. We must have laughed for an hour at that one.   
  
Before we knew it, closing time had come. Crowds of sweaty teenagers poured out of Mak's. And, even though I was somewhat of a celebrity, Blondie and I had to leave as well.   
  
She hung her arms around my neck, making me support her. She rested her hand against my shoulder as I attempted to walk down the street.   
  
"Take me home with you," she slurred. I stopped, unraveling her arms as I went. When I was sure she could stand on her own, I let her go.   
  
"No," I told her. Her lips formed into a drunken pout. She glared at me. "Where are you staying?"   
  
She put her hand to her mouth to suppress another stupid giggle.   
  
"Pack's Lodge." The giggles forced their way out. "But, we can't go there, silly, my parents …"   
  
"I'm not going to sleep with you," I told her flatly. I hailed a landspeeder cab.   
  
"Why not?" she moaned as the cab pulled up. I shoved her into it and handed the driver the credits I had brought for my drinks.   
  
"Take her to Pack's Lodge."   
  
The driver nodded; I turned back to Blondie.   
  
"Be with your family," I told her. "You never know when you might lose them." She nodded slowly, confused by my sudden philosophizing. I closed the door and watched the cab pull away.   
  
I would have walked her back to her room, but that lodge was out of the range of my transmitter. I would have been blown into a hundred pieces.   
  
"That wouldn't have been a good way to end a date," I said out loud to no one in particular. I laughed. Okay, so I was still a bit drunk.   
  
I turned the other way towards my master's loft.   
  
Yes, I said 'master.' I was a slave.   
  
*****


	2. Getting into This Mess

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for the reviews everybody (and the back-seat beta reading …)

*****

**Part Two (3/31/02)**

I walked slowly down the street. The sidewalks were damp with the early morning dew. The first glistening of the dawn's rays was just starting to bring a soft blue light to the air.   
  
Maecenas, my owner, usually didn't mind how late I stayed out, just as long as I was back before the sun was completely up.   
  
I had some time left.   
  
So, you're probably wondering how I got into this mess, after all, most slaves aren't podracers or visa-versa. Well, I'll tell you.   
  
I suppose the best place to start was when I was around the age of ten. Back then I was living with my mother, Shmi, on Tatooine. I was owned by Watto, a Toydarian junk dealer, who discovered that I had a knack for podracing. I won my first Bootna Eve Classic that year when Watto found my homemade podracer and forced me to use it.   
  
I was literally a celebrity overnight. Many people were surprised by the fact that I, a mere human being, could win a race, let alone even finish. Every time I entered, more and more gamblers bet on me and the more that I won – which slowly occurred more regularly – the more money was made.   
  
I must have entered at least three or four Bootna Eves, when I attracted the interest of Maecenas.   
  
He was a businessman; plain and simple, and a shrewd one at that. Unlike Watto, he never gambled on anything, preferring instead to place his wealth on a solid investment. Which, in his eyes, came in the form of me.   
  
I first met him on the day of the Bootna Eve race; I must have been around fourteen. He was walking along with Watto, examining the pods in the hanger bay. He came across my pod (the one I had built), and laughed.   
  
"You're able to get that thing off the ground?" he asked. "I'm impressed, boy."   
  
I know my features must have hardened somewhat, but I didn't bother to retort. He rubbed his pointy mustache gently and smiled. I'll never forget that smile; it was so cold, without one drop of kindness in it.   
  
"The boy is good, no doubts there," Watto chimed in.   
  
Maecenas barely heard that comment and walked closer towards me. I would have backed up had I not been already leaning against the pod. Bending down, he stood in front of me. Reaching out, he pushed up my chin a little and turned my head side to side. I jerked away from him quickly, not used to that sort of interaction.   
  
"You've won the last two major podraces here, haven't you?" he asked, not really noting my reaction.   
  
I nodded, my throat slowing going dry.   
  
"He even beat Sebulba into retirement," Watto added.   
  
"I like him," Maecenas addressed Watto. "How much?"   
  
Watto laughed loudly. I narrowed my eyes into thin slits.   
  
"He's not for sale, heh, heh," Watto began to fly away, beckoning Maecenas to follow. The tall man took one final look at me before joining the Toydarian.   
  
"Care to make a small wager, then?" I heard him ask from a distance.   
  
And I swear, Watto must have been the dumbest creature to ever flap around Tatooine.   
  
I lost the race that day. No, I don't just mean that I didn't finish first, I mean I never got past the start line. My engines gave a huff when I powered them up and then nothing - I sat the entire race out.   
  
I figured Watto would be beyond furious, so I tried to figure out what had gone wrong. During the race that I was not winning, I tore apart the pod only to find out that one of the engines was missing a motivator.   
  
Oh, what a stupid mistake! One that obviously wasn't made by me.   
  
I returned to Watto's box at the end of the race, expecting some form of punishment. I was surprised to find him slumped over and shaking his head in shame.   
  
Maecenas gave me another of his infamous grins.   
  
"Well, kid," he said. "How'd you like to see the galaxy?"   
  
It didn't take but a second to figure his whole little plan out. Well, cheating was commonplace in podracing - Sebulba was famous for it - but this was beyond even his scope. I just wondered why Watto fell for it.   
  
Despite all the fear that chided my body, I forced myself to appear calm. I attempted to shrug.   
  
"Sure, but can I have my motivator back?"   
  
Maecenas did indeed show me the galaxy, or at least all the systems that had pro-circuit podracing - Ord Ibanna, Baroonda, Ando Prime, Aquilaris, Oovo IV, and, of course Malastare, to name a few - and I made him more money than even he could have dreamed of."   
  
Lost in this train of thought, I had scarcely begun notice that the blue had now turned into a bright gold across the sky. The peaks of the great orange sun were just starting glow when I reached Maecenas's front door.   
  
The loft was large and finely decorated in the Alderaanian high style (or so I've been told - I've never actually been to Alderaan) with the credits earned from my races. Each pro-circuit planet had a place like this one for Maecenas and I to stay in during the racing season.   
  
I walked past a series of cleaning droids and into my room. Well, my 'room' was little more than a hole in the wall, but at least everything in it was mine. Of course, Maecenas had bigger rooms, but he wouldn't let me forget that I'm nothing more than a piece of property.   
  
I possessed such few belongings that I tended to horde them. So, granted, my room was a bit messy, yet I kept it comfortable. It was usually staked with machine parts - I had a need to tinker with things - a bed, and a few shelves and a set of drawers.   
  
I opened the door and prepared to hit my bed immediately, since my eyes were nearly slamming shut with exhaustion and my hangover was reaching its full potential, when Threepio, my faithful droid, greeted me. He had been one of my pet projects on Tatooine. Unlike the pod, Watto never discovered him, and I was allowed to take him with me. Maecenas used him as a ploy, taking Threepio away when I failed to capture first place in any given race.   
  
"Master Anakin!" Threepio exclaimed as if his whole existence revolved around me (okay, so maybe it did).   
  
"'Morning, Threepio." I rubbed the back of my head lazily.   
  
"Maecenas was looking for you last night," Threepio said, his voice becoming nearly shrill.   
  
  
I raised my eyebrow at the droid and proceeded to casually strip off my shirt.   
  
"What for? He knows I went out," I asked, as I sat on the bed and pulled off my boots.   
  
"He told me to give you a message," Threepio said.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"He said that an associate of his is throwing a party tonight in honor of your victory."   
  
"Oh, joy," I grunted sarcastically. More fun with backhanded traders. I flopped completely down into my bed.   
  
"The Duchess of Baroonda will be there as well," Threepio continued.   
  
Baroonda was the most civilized planet in the pro-circuit. Unlike other podracing planets that were governed by Hutts , Baroonda was ruled by an exceedingly peaceful queen.   
  
"Maecenas wants you to entertain her." I groaned and leaned into my pillow. Typical, just typical. Not only did I have to go to a party and pretend that I was a free person, I also had to be dragged around by some stupid royal.   
  
"Anything else, Threepio?" I sighed.   
  
"No, Master Anakin, that was everything."   
  
I snuggled into my covers and shut my weary eyes. I was already trying to stop the headache that I knew would come from all the drinks.   
  
"Okay, you can shut down if you want to," I told him. He did so, and the room fell into a comfortable silence.   
  
I sighed deeply and tried to relax both my mind and body. I knew that worrying about the upcoming party would do me no good, so taking that into regard, I was in a deep sleep fairly quickly.

*****


	3. If Only I Could Stay in Bed

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for all the lovely reviews!  I'm sorry I didn't make clear that this would be an Anakin/Padmé romance.  I just automatically figured it was clear enough.  For me, the idea of Obi-Wan and Amidala sounds really strange, but I keep forgetting that on ff.net, it's more common than most places.

*****

**Part Three (4/05/02)**

By all accounts, I must have woken up sometime in the afternoon. The light coming through my small window was harsh and direct. It illuminated Threepio, who was still asleep in the corner.   
  
I moaned and sighed, turning a bit and rubbing sleep out of my eyes. The movement caused Threepio's sensors to wake him up.   
  
"Good afternoon, Master Anakin," Threepio said cheerfully.   
  
I grunted and sat up, not bothering to answer him. I was surprised that I didn't have the headache I'd feared so badly. Instead, I found that just my muscles were stiff, probably from the beating they took in the race the day before. The pods were really small, especially now that I had grown nearly to two meters.   
  
I threw on a loose tunic and stalked outside. I found Maecenas sitting in his office, jabbering on the holo comm to some associate. I figured he would want to see me, so I waited silently at the door.   
  
"Look, Urbak," he was practically screaming. "I don't care how, I don't care how much, just get me that spice!" He slammed his hand down on the console, efficiently ending the connection.   
"Trouble on Kessel?" I asked, raising my voice in mock concern. I leaned triumphantly against the doorframe and allowed a smirk to escape my lips.   
  
He looked up at me from the desk, his face still red with anger. Noticing my reaction, he allowed himself to calm down and leaned back into his chair. His dark frame didn't so much as twitch.   
  
"Careful, boy," he hissed. "Or I'll make you wish you mined there."   
  
Have you ever heard of the expression 'that's not a threat, it's a promise?' Well, I'd say that basically summed Maecenas's disposition towards my existence.   
  
"Sir," I mumbled softly, lowering my head. Perhaps I should have been at bit more of a jerk, but I liked all my bones intact.   
  
"Better," he said. "You'd think after four years, you'd have learned a little discipline."   
  
He sighed in false disappointment. He waited for some sort of reaction, but, when he got none, he stood up.   
  
He walked toward me and stopped just inches from my face. I dared not move.   
  
"You're very lucky, _Anakin_."   
  
He rarely ever used my first name, and when he did, the vibration of it off his lips sent chills down my spine. I leaned into the frame more and crossed my arms together, somehow hoping to shield myself against him.   
  
"If you weren't so good at what you do and-" he pinched my cheek harshly. "-so pretty, you would have been put down along time ago."   
He stopped momentarily, and then continued, whispering in my ear.   
  
"You're nothing more than a smart animal. I own every breath you take. Remember that when you're prancing around at those clubs."   
  
He backed up and flashed me a smile. "I had the droids set you out something to wear. It should be in the 'fresher."   
  
I had a lump in my throat the size of Tatoo I, so I simply nodded and walked out.   
  
I showered and dressed. The outfit he'd given me was made out of some sort of silk and was probably worth more than even Threepio. I fixed my hair as best I could - Maecenas made me cut it a few years back, so it was easier to manage during the races. It was slightly spiky and I put some gel in it to enhance the effect.   
  
By the time I finished getting ready, it was time to leave for the party.   
  
Maecenas bellowed out. "Skywalker!" a few times, as if once wouldn't have been enough. I scuffled down into the entryway to join him.   
  
The landspeeder ride was quiet at first, so I just looked out the window. I was surprised that Maecenas didn't have a call to take or anything.   
  
"Stop that," he spoke, causing me to jump a little. "It's an annoying habit."   
  
I didn't turn my head, just my eyes. He was sitting across from me anyway. I contemplated what he was talking about a second, before I took my half-bitten fingernail out of my mouth.   
  
When I get nervous, I chew on my fingernails. It's a habit I started when I left my mom.   
  
I continued to stare out the window.   
  
"You know about the Duchess, right?" he asked, his voice growing harsher.   
  
"Entertain her," I mumbled sheepishly.   
  
"Deny her nothing," he hissed, his gold eyes flashing. "She is very close to the Queen of Baroonda. A little praise here and there couldn't hurt our odds."   
  
This was what Maecenas was talking about when he said 'pretty.' It's rare, thank the gods, and only with the wealthiest of women. That didn't make me like it any better, but one had to do what one had to do.   
  
I let my fingernail slide back in between my teeth, but this time Maecenas didn't bother to complain.   
  
Perhaps now is the best time to explain my _relationship_ to Maecenas. As you know, he owned me and had my chip active, but our situation was a little unique. You see on most pro-circuit planets, slaves weren't allowed to race for their owner's profit.   
  
So, in order to get around that little rule, Maecenas had some documents forged, saying that he granted me release. Everybody on the pro-circuit believed that I was freed and that Maecenas was my 'patron', providing me with whatever monetary resources I needed as a racer.   
  
That's why I was able to go out partying. Actually, Maecenas expected it from me - to keep up a sense of normalcy.   
  
Maecenas thought he was being a good master by giving me a little money after each successful race. It started during my first race under his ownership. I had refused to do anything, sour from missing my mom and scared on a new planet.   
  
He made me a deal; he was a business man, after all. If I won, I could keep one percent of my winnings, if I lost, he took five percent of whatever the pot would have been. Sometimes, though, I had to throw a race when my odds were too low. If I took down enough of my fellow racers in the crash, and the racer that Maecenas wanted won, I would get five percent of whatever the winnings would have been.   
  
He said that if I made enough, he'd allow me to free my mother.   
Well, when that fell through, we kept up the system and I bought parts for Threepio, or my other projects. When Threepio was completed, I used it on things like those drinks. I also had a little stash for if I ever found somebody who could deactivate my transmitter.   
  
With things like the Duchess, well, there wasn't really a system for doing that. He told, I did. Once, par my usual behavior, I refused. Let's just stop at saying that was a mistake.   
  
You're probably wondering why I just didn't inform the pro-circuit authorities of Maecenas's little plan. Well, I could have, but that wouldn't have stopped him from actually owning me. Who knows what he would have put through if I didn't race pods.   
  
We rounded up the driveway to a very expensive mansion. The place belonged to Maecenas's friend, Gujdim Wiphshun. He was the local governor here. He took a blind eye and, not to mention a few bribes, to Maecenas's spicing trade.   
  
People were getting out of landspeeders ahead of us - all were dressed in way too nice clothes. You could feed an entire family for a year on one of their cloaks.   
  
I sighed loud enough for Maecenas to hear. He turned to me a second before a servant helped him out of the cabin.   
  
"Cheer up, boy," his voice cheery. "It's your party."   
  
I bit my lip to keep any trade comeback at bay. I really hated that man.   
  
I stifled a groan as I got out of the speeder.   
  
Let the fun begin.

*****


	4. Sobriety is Overrated

**Author's Note: **Love those reviews!  Yes, I hope AotC Anakin has more personality than the TPM one (sigh).

*****

Part Four (4/11/02) 

Sobriety is overrated. My life to this point had been little more than pain and suffering, so, given the opportunity, I dull my senses.   
  
Thank the gods that this party had alcohol. The minute Maecenas and I came through the door, I grabbed something bubbly and fizzy off a nearby tray.   
  
Maecenas gave me a nasty look, but that's all he really could do. I was 'free' now. I gulped the drink down in a few swigs. I was about to grab another when Governor Gujdim Wiphshun showed up to greet us. He was a Gran, in other words, a native of Malastare.   
  
"A pleasure, as always, Mr. Skywalker," he started loudly, grasping my hand in a full-force handshake. I grinned sheepishly, feeling somewhat fuzzy from the drink. "I think the ticket sells go up ten fold when you get even a kilometer closer to the arena. And you, as well, Maecenas, time honored friend."   
  
He let go of my hand and hugged Maecenas.   
  
The two began talking. I don't know what about, though I didn't really care. Instead, I took the chance to check the place out. The mansion was as nice inside as it was out. The ballroom was royally decorated with hand-woven tapestries, with one hanging high above on each wall. All of the weavings were composed of a variety colors, but each one had a different core color. My attention somehow focused on a deep purple one, which was directly over Wiphshun's head.   
  
It had a number of humanoid figures woven onto it. They were all poised as if they had been stopped in mid air. Some were jumping, while others defending. The only similarity was that they all possessed beams of light within their hands.   
  
It was a scene of Jedi Knights. I had heard of them when I lived on Tatooine. They were the guardians of peace and justice throughout the galaxy. They helped the innocent, defended the poor… Yet, I had always wondered why they never came to free the slaves on my home planet.   
  
But that was before they had attempted to kill the Supreme Chancellor. They've been galactic criminals ever since, drawing a high price from bounty hunters. Although now, most were probably dead anyway.   
  
"Like the art, Mr. Skywalker?" I returned my attention to Wiphshun.   
  
"It's nice." I nodded. He turned his head for a quick glace at the tapestry.   
  
"That one," he chuckled, "is very hard to get these days, you know. Jedi historical art is rare to begin with, but in these times …"   
  
I nodded blankly as he jabbered on. My focus was drawn away once again to my surroundings. This time, I noticed the people. Of course, there were the party guests, dressed in their bizarre outfits, but I never found them appealing. It was what was behind the scenes- things most people chose not to look at, to not bother with.   
  
It didn't take long to spot the servants carrying around trays. Maecenas used droids to keep up the loft - I was his only slave - but Wiphshun had people. Humans, to be more precise.   
  
Most of them were young women, dressed in revealing brass strappy-bikini things and transparent linen of varying colors. Wiphshun had good taste, that was for sure, but I didn't allow my post-pubescent eyes wander too much. I felt embarrassed for them, as a fellow slave, and could only hope that one less pair of eyes on them would take away some of the shame.   
  
But I knew better.   
  
"… and what do you think about the post-Hyperspace Wars resurgence, Mr. Skywalker?" Wiphshun's voice broke me out of my thoughts yet again. He was looking at me, waiting for me to say or do something. He must have been staring for a few moments, at least. His eyebrows raised in slight speculation.   
  
I was caught off guard and my mind began racing for something to say. Unfortunately, nothing of usefulness came out.   
  
"Huh?" I managed.   
  
Maecenas wasn't even paying attention to our 'conversation'. As a substitute, he was beckoning to someone across the room. Before I had a chance to properly respond to the question, Maecenas grabbed me by the arm and led me off, saying a few quick goodbyes to Wiphshun.   
  
We hurried towards a small entourage. The group of people cleared, revealing an overindulgently dressed woman.   
  
Maecenas was grinning like an idiot and squeezed my arm harshly a few times.   
  
"Anakin," he said proudly. "I'd like to introduce you to the Duchess of Baroonda."   
  
_Oh, no. By the Gods, no._   
  
She was twice my age, at the very least … She had a veil covering the bottom half of her face, but the top halves of her cheeks were blushed slightly. The creased skin around her black eyes was evident enough to estimate her age. She elegantly snapped a few fingers at her cohorts, causing them to find other interests. She looked me over closely, her eyes wandering to and fro like an investor over a piece of property. I tried not to fidget too much, but I was becoming painfully uncomfortable.   
  
"You're taller than I imagined," she said after a moment. Her voice was husky, no, more like hoarse, and she spoke her Basic with a light, mid-rim accent.   
  
I, of course, didn't exactly know what to say to her comment. She continued to look at me, her eyes amused. The blood-red veil danced a bit about her lips, but didn't falter to cover her mouth.   
  
"Well, you do not talk much," she finally sighed. I shook my head somewhat. She put her hands on her hips playfully and gave me a mock glare.   
  
"But anyway," she continued with an exasperated sigh. "I saw you on the cover of that magazine. My whole planet is fascinated by you. A household name, you are."   
  
I could imagine her hidden grin. Maecenas laughed gently and padded me on the back. I tried not to flinch at his touch; the situation was already bad enough.   
  
"He finds the words when he needs them, Milady," he told her. "Well, I'll leave you to yourselves - I believe our host desires some company." Before he left, he was able to give me the classic 'don't screw up' look and a quick wink.   
  
_How I hate him._   
  
"Your friend was quite kind to introduce us," the Duchess said, once he was gone. She came closer to me and clenched her two arms around my right. "That magazine did not do you justice, I believe." She nestled my shoulder with her cheek - she was much shorter than I - and egged me into a slow walk through the ballroom.   
  
The magazine she was speaking of was _Podracing Quarterly_. I suppose that doesn't really need too much explaining, does it? Well, needless to say, I had made the cover several times, more or less, yearly. So much so that my mom, the last time I saw her, had collected them as a sort of holo album of me growing up.   
  
The magazine issue the Duchess was talking about was just released a few days ago - right before yesterday's race. Although many of the covers featured me standing on, or by whatever pod I was currently racing, the newest had a close up of my face. Personally, I hated the picture, but I could only wonder at how my mom must be cherishing it at the moment.   
  
The magazine, interestingly enough, decked the tables at this party. It was a tribute to Wiphshun's wealth, because he actually had them printed out on tree fiber, instead of a regular old datapad. I reminded myself to swipe one before the evening was over.   
  
"Are you enjoying yourself, Anakin?" the Duchess asked. "Is it all right if I call you Anakin?" She batted her eyelashes and handed me another drink. We stopped walking to drink.   
  
"Um, yeah, sure, fine," I told her, hoping that would answer any, and all of her questions. I took the glass she offered eagerly, but drank it in polite sips. She took a glass herself and removed her veil to touch the rim to her lips. She was no more radiant without it than with it, in my opinion. I supposed that if I spent any more time in aloofness, however, Maecenas would probably come over and wring my neck.   
  
"And you, Milady?" I asked in between sips.   
  
She attempted a cutesy laugh, but her voice came out something more of a snort. "I suppose so," she said. "Your governor friend went to quite a lot of trouble. But I must say that this is no comparison to some I have seen."   
  
I turned her statement around in my head a bit, trying to find the most suitable answer. The quickest way possible to get her into bed and to make this night over was what I was looking for.   
  
I tried the subtle approach.   
  
"On your home planet, Milady?" If I know royalty, nothing perks them up like talking about how great they or their lands are.   
  
"Yes, have you ever been to one?" She took another drink of her wine and slowly ran her hand up my arm.   
  
"A party? No, but I have been to Baroonda." I awarded her with a dashing grin. "Quite a beautiful planet, Milady."   
  
"Why, thank you, you are most kind." She favored me with a smile (her veil was still down).   
  
I was so bored. It had been less than fifteen minutes and I was already ready to jump out a window. But, unfortunately, the Duchess still had a few surprises left for me.

*****


	5. Angels and Broken Glasses

**Author's Note: **Thanks for sticking with me, guys; I realize that I haven't updated in nearly a month.  I blame school and finals!  I'll try to make the upcoming chapters a mite-trite longer.  Be on the look out for more updates later on, since it's summer now, and I'll be writing more.

*****

**Part Five (5/12/02)**

We drank a few more glasses of wine, making me feel a little less clear-headed. The Duchess and I continued to make pleasant, albeit stupid, conversation. I was beginning to wonder just how many planets' weather systems we could go over in a night. We must have been speaking for at least an hour, but it felt more like days.   
  
Maecenas came by to check up on us a few times, but, other than that, I was pretty much on my own.   
  
Alone.   
  
With her.   
  
"My son-in-law just loves watching the races," she mused, her eyes fluttering over my body again. "He must go to every season."   
  
_Son-in-law?_   
  
"Are you married, Milady?" I asked. My stomach began to churn wildly, but I attempted to ignore it. I sat my glass on a passing tray; I didn't want to make myself any sicker than I already was.   
  
She let out a sharp laugh – though it sounded more like a giggle or a croak – and tapped her elaborately manicured fingernail on the rim of her glass. I sighed silently during this whole performance and reminded myself that repeating, "You're not really here, it's only a nightmare" over and over again in my mind, could only work for so long.   
  
I tried, instead, to turn this new situation to my advantage. "I would not want to incur the anger of your husband, Milady." Sometimes a little gentlemanliness was the best thing.   
  
"I'm not anymore," she whispered, her voice husky in an endeavor to be seductive.   
  
I paused to calm myself, hoping to find a way to get through this horrible night. I could act, pretty well, in fact, and I pulled together all my nerves to appear more confident than I really was.   
  
The Duchess leaned closer to me. Standing on her tiptoes, she ran she bright blue fingernail lovingly across my cheek. Before I had a chance to react, she whispered something quite obscene into my ear. I fought the urge to jump away and forced the rising bile back down my throat with a hard swallow.   
  
"Would you like to dance, Milady?" I asked, amazed by the flatness in my voice. I knew this suggestion may have seemed rather abrupt after what she just said, but I couldn't think of anything better to say.   
  
"Yes," she said and, to my utter joy, backed off my shoulder. But what happened next was a shock to everyone involved.   
  
She must have leaned back too far and too fast because she bumped the serving girl walking behind her.   
  
There was a loud crash as numerous wine glasses fell to the floor. The Duchess let out a shriek that rattled in my ears for a full minute, while the serving girl choked back a sob. The Duchess clasped back onto my shoulder, as if she were afraid of the little slave. She turned to look back at the cause of her distress, a bitter, annoyed look in her eyes.   
  
The girl, for her part, immediately flew to the ground to pick up the spillage. Her light pink veils cascaded around her loosely covered body as she did so, causing me to be reminded of the sunset on Tatooine.   
  
"You clumsy fool," the Duchess wailed at the girl from her perch on my shoulder. Her nails sunk into my arm, causing the muscles there to involuntarily react with a flinch.   
  
"Oh, Anakin," she continued her rant with a drawn out whine. "Look at my gown!"   
  
She turned her ebony glare back on me, picking up one her feather-light blue sleeves. "It is ruined!" Her lips transformed into a cruel pout as I glanced down to stare at the 'stain.'   
  
I couldn't see anything on that piece of fabric and wasn't too surprised either, since the liquid that had been spilled was clear. Wanting to seem an observant person however, I simply nodded.   
  
She returned her attention back to the slave girl, who was still tying to pick up the mess.   
  
"Explain yourself!" the Duchess nearly screamed at her. The servant looked up, and I realized that I hadn't actually seen her before.   
  
She had dark, chocolate-colored eyes that, for a slave, bore sneeringly into the Duchess's. She didn't bother to look at me - her aggravated gaze was solely for the elder woman. I had never seen another slave behave with such pride before. She also had a slight, angelic face that, if I hadn't known better, I would have sworn belonged to a queen.   
  
When I was younger, space pirates comming into Watto's junk shop used to tell me stories about the creatures on other planets. There were angels, they had said, that lived on the moons of Iego. This girl, with her petite form and soft face could have easily been one, like a living fairytale.   
  
The Duchess, politician as she was, knew exactly what the girl's expression meant.   
  
"You will pay for this, little wench," she hissed. "Who is your master?" The girl, for all her composed, mask-like strength, couldn't help but to let her eyes widen.   
  
She was still cleaning up the glass during the conversation, but was no longer paying attention to her hands. When the Duchess had finished speaking, the girl's finger slipped and a bright red gash opened up, covering both the finger and the glass shard that cut it. She winced, dropping the glass on the floor and bringing the wounded finger up to her lips. Tears filled her eyes, probably less from the pain than from the trouble she'd get in because of the Duchess's attitude.   
  
It was horribly unfair, and it didn't take me very long to react. I bent down and joined the girl on the floor, intent on helping her with the mess. I started to shovel up some of the pieces. She seemed surprised by this behavior and stopped her task completely to stare at me, bewildered.   
  
That glance - her eyes poring into mine - made my breath seep helplessly out of my lungs. Her eyes were so intense, so passionate, that I could do no less than allow the rest of the galaxy fade into the background. She was confused; her bottomless brown eyes showed this confusion, her pride, her past suffering, and a dark, obvious hatred. Hatred for me.   
  
I remembered the clothes I was wearing just then - the expensive set that Maecenas had given me - the boots, and the company I'd 'chosen.' And I suddenly understood this hatred.   
  
My throat was still dry, but I forced some words out.   
  
"Your hand," I reminded her, hoping to earn some form of her trust. There was a napkin still unaffected by the spill, so I picked it up and placed it lightly on her gentle hand. She recoiled at my touch and tried to pull away. I kept to my task, though, even after I felt her angry gaze on our conjoined hands. I couldn't keep much of a running thought in my head; it was like her entire being was suffocating me. It took an adsorbent amount of energy just to keep wrapping her hand in the cloth and breathing.   
  
The mists of my created world, however, could only last so long. I heard the footsteps of people crowding about, and I knew we must have been drawing an audience.   
  
Wiphshun's voice broke out, followed by Maecenas's. I forced my hand to let go of the girl's and my consciousness to return to reality.   
  
"What's going on here?" Wiphshun asked, obviously standing right before me. I tilted my head up to look at him, but not before I stole one last glance at the angel.   
  
Her eyes were clouded over with a barely recognizable fear, but she was able to hide it behind a strong façade of determination.   
  
Strength to the last.   
  
"Your … _thing_ hit me and caused that muddle on the floor," the Duchess said from her spot behind me.   
  
_Was she there all this time? How long has it been, anyway?_ I wondered.   
  
"It was an accident, Governor," I told him. "No harm done." I stood up, and then offered my hand out to the girl. My actions perplexed her even more this time than before, but she took the help up, anyway.   
  
"My dress," the Duchess sobbed angrily, reminding us all of the 'spot.' I wanted to smack the stupid woman right then and there for her incessant complaining, but I kept my annoyance in check. The poor girl, now standing beside me, seemed to shrink even smaller than her already tiny form.   
  
I sighed deeply and returned back to the Duchess. I could only charm vulnerable, rich, old women to a certain extent, but I had a feeling that I could win the Duchess over now.   
  
"Let's not bother with such a childish prank, Milady," I told her, trying to swoon her with every type of chivalry known to man. "If I remember correctly, we were to dance?" I offered up my best, most faked smile and reached out a hand.   
  
The Duchess forgot all about the slave girl and gave me her undivided attention. She took my hand and we started to walk off towards the dance floor. I snuck a quick wink at the girl before leaving. She barely reacted to my movements, but I had the feeling she was even more surprised at me than before.   
  
"Come now," I told the rest of the party guests. "This is supposed to be a victory party, we don't need any problems." Wiphshun looked pleased by this idea, so I had the feeling that the girl would probably get off pretty easily.   
  
I gave Maecenas a half-shrug as we walked past. He didn't really seem upset, probably gladder that I hadn't lost the favor with the Duchess.   
  
The little crowd broke off and continued about their socializing. Maecenas and Wiphshun had a sabacc game going, it appeared, and it seemed the majority of the guests had taken to watching. The Duchess and I made it to the dance floor, and, as the music started, I slowly turned to get one last look at the slave girl … the angel.   
  
She was back down on her knees, and cleaning up the remainder of the glass, this time with the help of another servant. Tears graced her soft face as she worked, and she didn't bother to swat at them. I couldn't tell whether they were in grief or relief, but I had the feeling that it was both.   
  
The Duchess buried her face in my chest, allowing me to stare at the girl a few moments longer. A wrath of emotions filled me as I watched her, none of which I could make any order out of. She should have just stirred my pity or my understanding, my sympathy, but it was so much more than that. Something about the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she acted, something that was there and really wasn't at the same time. She stirred my very soul.   
  
But, before I could think on it anymore, another dancing couple blocked my view, ending my last connection to the angel.   
  
I returned my attention to the dance and back to the Duchess, only hoping against all hope that I would somehow manage to see the slave girl again.


	6. Counting Cards

**Author's notes: **Thanks for all the really wonderful and encouraging reviews! Sorry it took so long for this chapter to get up – betas were very busy.  Anakin and Padmé have the same age difference as in the original story, the only alternate thing about this story is the fact that the Queen's ship never landed on Tatooine.  The entire plot, then, is based solely on what was changed from this single fact.

I'd like to give special thanks to Herman Snerd, Jedi Anakin Solo, Darth Tim, and Mcily Nochi from the Jedi Council for all their sabacc help!

*****

**Part Six (5/24/02)**

_And one … two …three …one …two…three_, I continued counting the beats to the dance. Maecenas had made sure I learned everything there was to acting pompous, so keeping a mental commentary to my actions wasn't necessary. I was just bored.   
  
The Duchess, on the other hand, seemed to be having a great time. Every chance she got, I found her smiling at me or looking me over. We danced several rounds, thus procuring my boredom even further.   
  
Well, I suppose it was a better way to spend the evening than the _alternative_. My current plan was to get the Duchess drunk enough to not remember whether or not we did anything, and it was working well so far. At the end of every number, I'd stop to get us a drink. I could count at least ten songs we danced to, and the Duchess, despite her age, was getting a bit giggly.   
  
"Anaaaaaaakin," she moaned out, leaning against me much like that blonde girl did at Mak's. "Wanna have some fun …" She propped her head on to my shoulder as we continued to cascade around the dance floor.   
  
_What is it about me that causes women to hang off my arm?_ I started to consider a serious lifestyle adjustment to remedy this behavior.   
  
Suddenly, the Duchess started to drag me off the dance floor by the hand. I followed semi-willingly, wondering where we were going.   
  
As if the Duchess could read my mind, she turned around, nearly running back into me in the process.   
  
"The Governor was kind enough to provide me rooms here," she told me, her voice weaning on seductive.   
  
_Oh, no, no, no, no …_   
  
She grabbed my hand even tighter and led me completely out of the ballroom. As we walked out of the solid wood door, I literally felt the last of my dignity stripped away from my soul. Was this all I was born for? Was this it? Me, the son of a slave, doomed to a life of slavery myself?   
  
No. This wasn't just slavery, this was something much worse.   
  
This was Hell.   
  
When I was a boy, I used to dream of a life as a hero, a pilot, a warrior, anything … somebody noble. A person worth more than a pile of credits. I used to imagine that I'd someday manage to escape this world, and maybe one day, have a family.   
  
A soul mate.   
  
I know it must sound lame, but that's all I've ever really wanted. Someone to share my life with - my hopes, my dreams, my future. Somebody to love and be loved by. I never knew how much I needed that until I was separated from my mom.   
  
Oddly, my thoughts turned back to that slave girl from before. For some reason, I looked for her as I crossed the threshold out. It was as if seeing her, if only a quick glance, would make what I was about to do okay.   
  
I didn't see her, though – the floor where she had been was now cleaned. Other serving girls were still around, but none of them were my angel.   
  
The Duchess was saying something as we walked down the hallway adjacent to the ballroom. I tried to focus on her words, to focus on anything, but I couldn't. My mind didn't want to, it had had enough. It was as if my entire being was preparing to go numb. Well, I suppose it was better than having all my senses bare this experience.   
  
We arrived at her room. It was a grand and spacious as one would have thought, given a view of the palace itself. A few servants were in the sitting room when we entered, but they mysteriously scattered immediately. Her bedroom itself was a few paces away.   
  
We went into there, as well, and - after some serious foreplay - wound up on the bed. My mind completely detached itself from my body, and I set into my usual rhythm of seduction.   
  
The Duchess was mumbling something I couldn't quite make out, and didn't really care to. She, at least, knew what she was doing, making my work all the easier. She probably had a boy my age on every planet.   
  
She flipped me over on my back, my head missing collision with the headboard by near millimeters. She straddled me and began kissing my neck. I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if I could count the number of potholes in the elaborate tile job.   
  
_One …Two …_   
  
Her hands found their way down to my belt.   
  
_Five …Six …That one's only half a hole …Six and a half …_   
  
My arms must have been doing something right, because the Duchess moaned and giggled.   
  
_You're not really here, it's only a nightmare …   
  
Eight and a half …Nine and a half…_   
  
Suddenly, I felt a weight slam into my chest. I stopped my counting and looked back down at the Duchess. It was her head that had thumbed my torso; her hair was a disheveled mess across my shoulders and her eyes were peacefully closed.   
  
She was asleep. She had fallen asleep.   
  
I hadn't been under the impression that she was that close to passing out, but alcohol has different effects on different people.   
  
Everything inside the very core of my being began to praise whatever deity or supreme life energy had given me this great gift. My plan had gone through perfectly, even after I had already abandoned it.   
  
I slowly and gently untangled the Duchess's grasp and freed myself from her and the bed. Now liberated, I ran my hand through my hair and breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
Without wasting anymore time, I stripped the bed of its coverings, throwing some linen on the floor, while others found a place at the foot of the bed. That task finished, I undressed the Duchess, tossing her clothes in various corners around the room.   
  
Despite the layers of garments that woman wore, the whole thing took less than five minutes. I placed her neatly in the bed, covering her with a wrinkled sheet. I made a nice little indent on the pillow next to hers, just the size of a human head.   
  
Pleased with my work, I quietly turned around and prepared to leave. When I reached the door, however, I realized I had forgotten something.   
  
Taking off my boot, I yanked off my left sock. I flung it atop the Duchess's chemise. Sure, there were other useless undergarments I could have left, but I felt the sock would be adequate proof of what should have gone on in that room.   
  
Satisfied, I replaced my shoe and left the Duchess alone to her peaceful slumber.

~

The adrenaline rush from my daring escape caused the alcohol to leave my system pretty quickly. Now nearly utterly sober, I made my way back to the party. A few servants, both of the Duchess and the Governor, had spotted me walking away from the Duchess's quarters. The younger ones, especially the girls, snickered when they saw me. Apparently they had seen us going into her room, and were amused either by that fact in general or that I was returning after less than ten minutes.   
  
Upon entering the ballroom, I caught Maecenas's eye. He was standing near the sabacc table, which was where most of the guests were now. He nodded to a few of his friends and then made his way over to me.   
  
"Done?" He whispered, raising an eyebrow in the process.   
  
"She fell asleep," I mumbled back. I found no reason to lie to Maecenas about the situation; he would only punish me if he found out the truth later. And he couldn't blame me for her. "I made it look believable."   
  
He regarded me for a moment as if he was making sure I was honest. "Asleep?"   
  
"She had too much to drink, passed out. She shouldn't remember anything."   
  
"Fine," Maecenas sighed. "You better hope you're right." He turned to look back at the sabacc table. Like a true businessman, he then changed the subject instantly to something having to do with credits.   
  
"Gujdim's got quite a game going on there," he commented. "A senator from Corellia has already lost a quarter of a million credits to him."   
  
_And I'm supposed to care because…?_   
  
"I want you to join the game and I want you to win it," Maecenas told me. I looked at him, confusion showing through my eyes.   
  
"Podracing is one thing," I reminded him. "But a card game?"   
  
He turned completely to stare directly into my eyes, a hint of darkness crawling through his pupils.   
  
"Win it," he said again, pushing me towards the table and shoving a pile of credit chips into my hand.   
  
I did as I was told.   
  
"Hey, room for one more?" I asked the players when I arrived. Wiphshun seemed pleased by the idea – as I was still the guest of honor – and I found a spot at the table.   
  
Sabacc is as much of a game of chance as it is skill, but some players, famous ones, have made an art out of it. I've only played a few times in my life, and the rules were perplexing because of the numerous forms. Based on what the other players said, this game was running on the more universal rules.   
  
A gaming droid dealt us all two cards each. I carefully glanced at my pair - the five of sabers and the three of coins. That equaled eight in total.   
  
The object of the game was to be the first to reach twenty-three or have the closest to that number. You couldn't go above twenty-three though, otherwise you "bombed-out" and automatically lost the game.   
  
When all the other players had a chance to see their hands, the droid gave us the option of another card. I took it - the Evil One. That card was worth fifteen. I quickly added the three together.   
  
Twenty-three.   
  
I tried not to show my surprise and shock. I could win this thing. Bets were being called.   
  
"Ten thousand," one of Wiphshun's associates said, throwing some jewels into the pot at the center table. The next two players simply dropped their cards and shook their hands, eliminating themselves. That left Wiphshun and myself.   
  
"Ten thousand," Wiphshun echoed, placing a stack of credit chips next to the gems.   
  
My turn. Maecenas had found his way behind me and now - having seen my hand - squeezed my shoulder lightly. I threw down the credits that Maecenas had given me, the chips equaling Wiphshun's.   
  
The game went on as such for several more rounds, until Wiphshun's friend had folded. Wiphshun and I were in a betting war now, the funds getting larger and larger. The table was nearly filled with jewels, rare metals, credit chips, you name it. Maecenas's constant "recommendations" had caused a huge bruise to form on my shoulder. I tried not to grimace at the repeating pain.   
  
"Heh heh heh," Wiphshun croaked up when I raised him another pile of credits. "I'm getting bored, lad. Let's pick this up a bit." I figured he would simply up the ante of money.   
  
I was genuinely curious at what Wiphshun was going to do next. But that was until the serving girl came to bring us another round of drinks.   
  
Not just any girl, mind you, _the_ serving girl. She was nervous, that could be said easily, for she gently shook as she set our glasses down. She snuck a glance at me, since she was standing right before me on Wiphshun's side, and her eyes widened a little in recognition.   
  
It was then that I noticed the small, but very prevalent, black semi-circle underneath her right eye. It would eventually - probably pretty soon, actually - turn into a dark blue contusion, covering the majority of her upper cheekbone.   
  
I bit my lip, trying to push my sudden rage under my already present "game face." I let my left hand, which was resting on my knee bellow the table, clench and unclench several times, drawing blood as my nails continuously rammed my palm.   
  
_He had hurt her. Wiphshun had hit her._   
  
I tried to focus on anything … anything but the girl. But her face haunted me, even when I stopped looking at her.   
  
I had to help her … help her anyway I could.   
  
"Pick it up?" I desperately tried to turn my attention back to Wiphshun. "I have a few ways to make this more _interesting_."   
  
Wiphshun moved his eyes slightly, announcing that he was curious. "What did you have in mind?"   
  
I felt Maecenas's nails bury themselves into my shoulder, but I ignored him.   
  
"That girl," I nodded towards the angel. "I like her. She's yours, right?" I was able to keep my voice calm, business-like.   
  
The girl, realizing that I was talking about her, discontinued her current chore. She looked at me and then at Wiphshun. Her eyes held a certain amount of … _was that fear?_   
  
"What, this one?" he turned to look at her, and at my nod, grabbed her by the arm. Fortunately for her, the drink tray had long ago been set down. She landed harshly on Wiphshun's lap and immediately began struggling against his grip. I had the sudden urge to jump over the table and cause permanent damage to Wiphshun's face.   
  
"She's mine, all right," he continued. "A feisty one at that, you want her? What are you planning on offering in return?"   
  
Maecenas bent down, leveling himself with my ear.   
  
"What the hell are you doing?" he whispered, his voice a low hiss. "You place this bet, and you won't have the use of your legs until next racing season."   
  
I considered this threat for a moment. If I lost, he would certainly break either both my legs, or something equally drastic. But if I won … no more than a slap on the wrist.   
  
I looked at the angel again. Her eyes dug into to mine, but her emotions were unreadable.   
  
I would just have to win.   
  
"My pod," I reported to Wiphshun. "Custom made, probably worth twice as much as the girl."   
  
"The one you used yesterday?" he asked. I nodded, confirming that it was indeed the pod that won my last race. "Deal!" he nearly shouted, thinking he had gotten the better end of the bet. Little did he know that it was never really the pod, it was the racer.   
  
Maecenas had given up on me; after all, having twenty-three, there was no way I could lose.   
  
But, as if my confidence had alone called on it, the gaming droid called for a randomizing.   
  
This little horrid process involved the players placing their hand in a randomizer, which changed the faces on the cards. It was called completely by chance, some games going without any randomization at all.   
  
We both stuck our cards in the glowing field. After a few seconds, I retrieved my new hand. Terrified, I looked the cards over.   
  
The mistress of sabers, the commander of flasks, and the master of flasks.   
  
Thirty-nine total. I had bombed-out.   
  
I felt my stomach lunge into my throat and my skin noticeably pale. I could only hope that Wiphshun, as a Gran, hadn't seen my human reaction.   
  
The slave girl, however, had, her eyes still completely fixed on me. She raised her eyebrows, questioning the outcome. I tried to ignore her - I couldn't be distracted now. She only added to the fuzzy feeling in my stomach and the dizzy spinning of the room.   
  
I watched Wiphshun closely as he reviewed his new cards. His face gave no hint of expression, causing me to worry. I focused deeper, entering a state I only felt during the races. It was like a trance, I think, and in it, the entire galaxy became clearer.   
  
_Wiphshun has … Wiphshun has …_ I stretched my mind out to him, well, at least that's the only way to describe it. I started to _feel_ him.   
  
_Wiphshun has … fifteen._   
  
Not an impressive number, to be sure, but one that would beat mine. I had to think.   
  
I could draw another card. I faced the deck, sitting next to the gamming droid. I had to draw another card.   
  
But, if I did, I would get the two of coins, causing my hand to go up even further.   
  
Bets were being called again.   
  
_Should I drop out now?_ I felt Maecenas's grip back on my shoulder. This time it wasn't a signal; Maecenas wanted to cause me pain, any type of pain he could readily inject.   
  
I had to keep going.   
  
I saw Wiphshun's bet with my own.   
  
He - mostly likely uncomfortable with his hand - asked for the card, making his hand seventeen.   
  
I looked at the cards again, the next one was the mistress of coins - still too high. I didn't take the card.   
  
As Wiphshun placed another bet, I felt my focus hardening into something so unreal, I could barely describe it. It was as if an entire world had opened up to my conscious. Everything in my view seemed to blur into oblivion, even the slave girl.   
  
Wiphshun took the card. His total was now twenty-eight. He too had bombed-out. We had both lost. I could have easily laid down my cards, making the all bets null.   
  
I glanced again at the deck. A lone card swam into my mind's eye - the Star. I quickly asked for the card, hoping against hope that my insight was correct. The Star was worth a variable value of either seventeen or negative seventeen because it, like the Evil One, was one of eight special face cards in a sabacc deck.   
  
The droid dealt me the card. I grasped for it yet picked it up slowly, afraid of the possible result. Thinking better of myself, I forced my eyes to glance at it.   
  
A shinny sun picture greeted me.   
  
The Star! I now had twenty-two.   
  
I laid down my cards, face up - open to all around me. Wiphshun did the same, and, after a few seconds of adding, the crowd knew who the winner was.   
  
I felt Maecenas's hand let go of my now-aching shoulder.   
  
_Has he been gripping me this entire time?_   
  
Wiphshun nearly threw the shocked girl off his knee and stormed off, dragging her along with him.   
  
Still dazed, I leaned back into my chair. I had won. I had won everything. I had won the angel.   
  
If I had only known then what the consequences of that action would be.

*****


	7. Getting the Merchandise

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the inspiring reviews, everybody! 

*****

**Part Seven (6/2/02)**

My relaxation time was short lived. After the crowd had weaned a bit, and many of the party guests began to call it a night or were deciding to have those last few drinks for a comfortable night's sleep, I found myself face to face with Maecenas.   
  
I can't quite find a word to describe his mood towards me after that game. He was angry, sure, but it wasn't quite that bad; I knew I wouldn't receive any punishment that night. It wasn't disappointment; Maecenas didn't care enough about me for that. It was something else; something hinging on those two emotions but, at the same time, wasn't near either one.   
  
"Go get the girl," he told me, an edge to his voice that slightly defined rage. He began to collect my winnings, pouring the various credit chips, jewels, and other fineries into a rather large purse.   
  
I nodded and stalked off to where I had last seen Wiphshun take the slave girl.   
  
During that trip, I suppose, the consequences of what I had done just minutes before began to hit me clearly for the first time.   
  
I had won a _person_.   
  
And, in all legal respects, the girl was mine. I felt disgusted with myself then, suddenly realizing the emotions I had experienced after winning that game must have been eerily similar to what my master felt when I had lost the race that fateful day on Tatooine.   
  
I stopped and leaned against wall as if I was slowly running out of breath. I placed my head to a chilly window that lined the hallway and looked out into the pitch-blackness beyond.   
  
Was I no better than he, a filthy, low-grade entrepreneur?   
  
I sucked in a small gulp of air and steadied myself, shaking my head the entire time.   
  
_No_, I told myself. _I am not like him._   
  
My thoughts drifted back the cruel mark on the angel's cheek. The bruise, the painful reminder of her condition, which Wiphshun had given her without a second notice.   
  
My mind firmed up into a solid resolve, and I continued down the last stretch of the hallway.   
  
The end bought me into a busy work area – part kitchen, part servant's quarters. Girls dressed in the revealing garments paraded about, trying mostly, to help the cooks clean up the leftover cuisine and the mess the various dishes had caused. All looked tired, sad, and annoyed.   
  
I didn't initially see my girl, but Wiphshun made his appearance known the second I stepped in there.   
  
"Ah, Mr. Skywalker," he greeted, slapping me hard on the shoulder. "She's getting the remainder of her things. I hope you don't mind."   
  
"I don't," I told him, edging myself slowly away from this foul Gran. The air in the kitchen was scorching-hot, and the moisture caused from the boiling water made it incredibly humid – not the most comfortable of surroundings for a desert dweller like myself.   
  
Wiphshun continued to make small talk, ignoring my lack of interest and amusement. "We should play again," he said. "Give me chance to win back some those credits."   
  
"Perhaps," I agreed, my voice carrying the slight husk of irritation. Truthfully, I had no desire play cards ever again – not with Wiphshun, not with anyone. Of course, now that Maecenas knew what I was capable of, he would certainly want me to continue.   
  
"I really wanted that pod," Wiphshun lamented. "She's a beauty."   
  
I glanced at him, but my two eyes never fully focused on his three. I didn't bother, nor found the need, to say anything.   
  
When Wiphshun realized this, he spoke up again. "I suppose this works out for the better," he said. "The girl … good waitress, good maid, but I think her _most select_ services would be better suited to a human master."   
  
That last comment did catch my attention, and I turned to regard him, my eyes composed into tiny slits. He did not notice my hateful, human glare. He continued his ramblings aimlessly, while I locked myself into a new string of thoughts.   
  
_A human master,_ I repeated mentally. It struck me just then exactly who the slave girl's new owner would be.   
  
Maecenas.   
  
A sick, sinking feeling washed over me, and I had the urge to lean against the nearby counter. Why hadn't I thought of this little outcome before? Certainly, like he had bagged up the earlier winnings, Maecenas would have no qualms about taking the girl for his own uses.   
  
The guilt washed over me like a stream, and I was forced to deal with it one drop at a time.   
  
These grievances were cut short, however, the entrance of my new property. A long, black, woolen robe shrouded her. The veils of her bikini were still slightly visible under the folds, and she carried a small bag in her right hand. Her eyes remained downcast as she walked towards us, as if the floor was the most important thing in the galaxy.   
  
"Girl," Wiphshun stepped forward and grabbed her arm. She struggled a bit and then looked up at him. "This is Master Skywalker," he told her. "He is your new owner."   
  
She turned to me, bright defiance shone on her face. There was a gleam of pure disgust in her eyes, directed right at me.   
  
Suddenly, she yanked herself away from Wiphshun, throwing her former master off balance, nearly tripping him.   
  
He caught himself before he fell, though, and nearly backhanded the girl to give her a matching blue spot on the left cheek.   
  
"Wiphshun," I hissed before he did so. My voice held just the right amount of power and anger for him to stop himself. "Do you have the records ready and the transmitter?"   
  
"Yes, Mr. Skywalker, in my office," Wiphshun said. He harshly and nearly threw the girl towards me.   
  
I caught her and held onto her arm to keep her from falling. Her forehead accidentally landed on my shoulder, causing every nerve in my body to twinge in anticipation. I attempted to ignore this feeling as I felt my face go red. It took a moment for her to steady herself, but, when she did, she found a way to step away from me, completely out of reach.   
  
"Let's go, then," I told Wiphshun flatly. I looked over the girl's shoulder, noticing that there was an open door to a back alley – most likely for the servants to take out the large amount of garbage.   
  
Wiphshun nodded and began to walk towards the office, urging me to follow.   
  
"Stay here," I told the girl, nodding gently in the general direction of the door, hoping that she would understand. "I'll be right back."   
  
Although Wiphshun didn't actually notice my hidden escape directions, he was still concerned about my treatment of the girl.   
  
"Mr. Skywalker," he said, turning back around, "I suggest that you take her with us."   
  
"Nonsense," I chided, trying to sound as arrogant and snotty as possible. "I wish to speak to you in private about the transmitter." I raised my eyebrow suggestively, as if it were a hidden joke for the "masters." Wiphshun nodded in understanding.   
  
I smiled loosely at the girl before joining Wiphshun, not bothering to snick one last look at her before I left.   
  
~   
  
"State-of-the art."   
  
Wiphshun was telling me while handling the girl's transmitter. I watched intensely as he explained how the device worked. "This here increases the range in a radius by meters," he said, touching the upper-middle button on the small, black remote. He pointed to the next button, "and this one decreases it." I nodded. "And this one turns the remote off and on," he said of the top left switch. "This one is the destruct. It has a thirty second delay, just in case you change your mind." He laughed as he pointed to the top right switch.   
  
"Sounds good." I was trying to act casual, but, until now, I had never actually seen a transmitter up close before. I was beginning to wonder if all remotes - including the one that was hooked up to my body - had a "destruct button." I shuddered at the very thought.   
  
"That's everything, then," Wiphshun said as he handed me a datachip with all the girl's information. "Looks like we're done going business, lad."   
  
"Looks like," I said coolly. "Until next racing season, Governor." I turned to leave his office, hoping that no further words would be exchanged between us.   
  
Thankfully, there weren't, and I went off to "retrieve" my property.   
  
_Pity she'll have ran away by the time I get there,_ I sarcastically reminded myself as I walked down the hallway to the kitchen.   
  
When I figured no one was looking at me, I neatly fumbled the left button, causing the transmitter to deactivate itself. _Good luck, Angel._   
  
My warm feelings of vicarious freedom, however, were crushed painfully when I walked into the kitchen.   
  
Maecenas stood there with the girl, rage seething through his every pore. He saw me, his hateful eyes boring into mine. I attempted a half smile and a shrug in greeting.   
  
"She tried to escape through the back door here," he told me, gesturing to the slave. "I caught her right before she broke out in a run. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"   
  
"I was getting the remote and stuff from the Governor," I said truthfully. "I told her to stay put." I put on my best, cutest face and looked at Maecenas with soft, wide eyes. "I didn't think she's try to run away. After all, we have a transmitter; she would have been killed."   
  
Maecenas, annoyingly enough, had learned all my acts along time ago.   
  
"Give me the remote," he grumbled, stretching out his hand. I did as he bided. "This thing isn't even on!" he nearly shouted after seeing it. He grabbed my collar, barely aware that there were still people around who believed me to be free. "What are you trying to pull, Skywalker?"   
  
"Nothing," I answered innocently, gasping for breath. "Wiphshun just gave the remote to me, he didn't tell how to use it, I swear!"   
  
He released me, still not believing my story. A flick of his finger turned the left button back to the on position.   
  
I turned to regard the girl. Her eyes were wide and struck with fear. She was confused at the scene she had been privy to witness and afraid of what the immediate future under this new ownership held. She stood her ground, however, her large, brown eyes taking in all.   
  
"Let's get out of here," Maecenas ordered, suddenly aware of the stares we were getting. "It's late; I have a meeting tomorrow morning."   
  
He led the way out of the now silent kitchen. I followed and hoped the girl would, too. I had inwardly refused to grab her by the arm the way the others had.   
  
Fortunately, she did follow, and, in a few minutes, the three of us were seated in Maecenas's landspeeder, driving away from that mansion.   
  
The slave girl stared at the house in silence as we left, perhaps wishing her old home fair well, lamenting the loss of that life, joyously mocking it, or, more likely, simply accepting the change as one more step in her difficult journey.   
  
I watched her, but she refused to even look at me. So, was I repulsive to her? I leaned back into my seat and joined her, accordingly, in the quiet vigil.   
  
*****


	8. There ... or Back Again?

**Author's Notes: **Oy! FF.N has been very annoying! I've had this chapter ready for a while, too!  Well, I hope you guys haven't forgotten about this story.  Thanks again for all the reviews (although it seems I can't proudly show them off anymore) and hope you like!

*****

Part Eight (6/26/02) 

The loft was only half lit inside when the landspeeder pulled up. The droids, of course, needed no light to operate, but the power was kept on low in preparation for our homecoming.   
  
The trip had been silent the entire time, making me extremely uncomfortable. I snuck a few glances at the girl as she stared out the window. Eventually, however, she caught me in the act, and, after her stern look of annoyance, I chose to stare at my knees instead.   
  
Maecenas, still angry with me, strode through the threshold ahead of us, incessantly clenching the girl's transmitter protectively. When he had walked to the center of the entryway, he turned around to face us. Or me, rather.   
  
"Do you have any idea how many credits you nearly cost me?" he bellowed. There was no pretending now - we both knew our real positions in this galaxy.   
  
I planned the best reply. My only usual goal was to make the most sarcastic statement possible while avoiding the largest amount of bodily harm. I suppose, in this case, the truth was the least painful route.   
  
I glance towards the slave girl at my side.   
  
_Okay, not the _complete _truth_.   
  
"You saw my hand," I attempted. "How was I going to know about the randomizer?"   
  
"That's not the point, boy," he hissed. "I wanted the credits; not this cheap excuse for a-"   
  
"I only wanted …" I interrupted before he could finish his thought. When he stopped talking to stare and wait for me to complete my statement, I found I didn't know what to say. What did I want? Surly to help the girl, but Maecenas could never understand such concepts as compassion and empathy. A life under his ownership might be no better than her life with the Gran. I had come up with a plan to set her free, but only after I had won her, and I was sure as the fire pits of Sullust not going to tell him of _that_ little detail.   
  
"Oh, Skywalker," Maecenas continued when it was obvious that I would remain silent. "You wanted what?" He glided closer to us, emerging right before my face. He let his eyes fall upon the girl, who was now standing less than two meters away from us. "I know what you wanted."   
  
Strangely, he laughed as if he'd made a joke that only he was familiar with. I stood motionless, watching him gloat. A lump slowly formed in the back of my throat. The girl seemed to think his behavior was odd as well and stared, her eyes wide.   
  
Suddenly his cackling ceased and the back of his hand connected with my face, slapping my left cheek hard enough to sending my entire body to the floor.   
  
I was taken off-guard by this action, but I can't honestly say I was surprised. I allowed myself to fall, bracing for impact against the hard floor.   
  
I saw the girl's shock out of the corner of my eye. She had backed up and held her hand to her mouth.   
  
I rubbed my red cheek gently and tried not to stare back at my owner with the hatred. I knew my eyes must contain at the moment.   
  
"Next time," Maecenas growled, "you will do exactly what I tell you. You will always do exactly what I tell you. Understand?"   
  
I nodded.   
  
Unsatisfied, he lifted me nearly off the floor with my shirt collar, proving that spice addiction can really add superhuman strength to some.   
  
"I understand perfectly, Master," I whispered, my heart sinking at the utterance of that hated word.   
  
The amusement returned to his face, and he let me drop back down. I landed softer than before because the fall wasn't as far as the first.   
  
Maecenas pointed loosely to the girl. "Put her in one of the rooms next to yours," he ordered me. "I'll figure out what to do with her in the morning."   
  
I nodded again this time, hoping that would be enough. Maecenas turned and left, apparently going to his office before bed.   
  
My sharp gaze followed him as he went because I didn't want to see the girl at the moment - my characteristic pride had been shattered too deeply.   
  
"Are you all right?" I heard a voice say behind me. It was soft and gentle, with a hint of sadness and concern. It was exactly how I thought an angel would sound. I realized that this was the first time I'd heard her speak.   
  
My body froze and my spine went straight. My throat had gone dry, and I couldn't say anything - no witty reply, no flirtatious remark, no sarcastic comeback. I was totally speechless, nervous even.   
  
I heard light footsteps that could only belong to her small frame. She was walking around to face me.   
  
"I'm fine," I told her, gruffness in my voice. I was about to get up, when a small, delicate hand reached out for my own.   
  
She was standing before me now, her figure completely filling my view. I forced myself to look up, to stare at her face, and into her eyes. They were filled will concern, confusion, and worry.   
  
I took her hand, and - adding her strength to my own - lifted off the floor. Our eyes didn't leave each other the entire time. There was no pity in her brown orbs, which set me off guard. I didn't know what to expect from her - as my experience with fellow slaves became very limited after Maecenas won me, though all the free people that knew my true condition often felt sorry for me.   
  
For the first time since I had left my mother, it seemed, I felt I was standing next to an equal.   
  
The moment (for that's all it was, mere seconds) soon ended, and we both felt the need to return our gazes to the floor. Perhaps the situation was just too new and strange for us to handle directly.   
  
What could I possibly say to her? There were so many things I wanted to know - who she was, where she came from - and so much more I need to explain - why I had gambled for her, who I was - but I could not speak.   
  
I breathed silently, letting some of my frustration go. I was tired, which meant she must have been, too. Maecenas had said to go to bed - his first good idea all night.   
  
"I'll show you to your room," I half-whispered. Luckily, she heard me, and nodded when I finally allowed myself to look at her. I took her bag, initially surprising her with that form of courtesy. She set herself to grab it back, but stopped her hand midway, as if remembering some long-forgotten etiquette.   
  
I walked out of the entryway and into the nearby hall that contained our rooms, motioning for her to follow. I opened the door to a room next to mine. This one was a guest quarters for the people Maecenas didn't consider worthy of too much attention. Still, the room was bigger than my own and furnished comfortably. It hadn't been used in a while, but it was impossible to tell because the droids cleaned it daily.   
  
I strode in confidently, switching on the lights as I went. I placed her bag lightly on the bed and turned back to face her.   
  
She was staring about the room, drinking in every detail. Her preoccupation gave me a fleeting moment to memorize her beauty. Like I first time I saw her, the angel was flawless now. Ware and sadness had taken their toll on her face, perhaps diminishing her perfect skin from its original quality, but I really couldn't tell - I had never met another to match her looks.   
  
As if she could sense me staring, she returned her gaze back to mine. Her eyes were unreadable, so it was difficult for me to plan my next words. I decided to go with the facts.   
  
"This room is only temporary," I told her. "We're leaving tomorrow."   
  
She didn't see the usefulness of that statement, but nodded anyway.   
  
I was hoping that that information would be enough so I attempted to head out. Her eyes stopped my movement, however, and I stayed put.   
  
"You're a slave, are you?" The question was blunt, and since it came from someone that had been quiet all night, it caught me off guard.   
  
"I'm a person," I blurted out, not really sure why I had said it. Perhaps I was afraid of loosing my newfound equality with her; perhaps I wanted to remind her that she was a person, too. I slowed myself, choosing my next words carefully. All the while, the girl raised her eyebrow in expectance.   
  
"My name is Anakin."   
  
"A simple 'yes' or 'no' would do," she told me. Gone was her mask of confusion, only to be replaced by the haughtiness she had shown in front of the Duchess.   
  
"Yes," I said, neither annoyed, nor chided. Equals, indeed. "Maecenas owns me. I race pods for him." The usual shame, however, was still there, and I found myself talking unevenly. My eyes found their way to the door jam behind her.   
  
"Why were you playing sabacc?" Her voice was almost harsh.   
  
"I do what I'm told to do," I answered, my voice soft.   
  
"Winning me?"   
  
At that point I looked at her. The blue mark was still there, reminding why I did what I did.   
  
"He hit you," I said lamely. "You needed to get away from him."   
  
"Into what exactly?" she said. Her arms moved around to showcase the room, a metaphor for her current situation. "One master for another. And, from what he did to you, he doesn't seem that much better. _Thanks a lot!_"   
  
"I was trying to help you," I desperately retorted. When the anger in her eyes didn't lessen, I attempted a new approach. "I tried to let you to escape. I deactivated your transmitter."   
  
Her features softened, returning her form to the silent beauty I had known before. She placed her hand on the nearby dresser, suddenly fascinated with running her nail along the polished wood.   
  
"I thought that's what you were trying to do," she said, her voice gentle now. I noticed for the first time that her accent was unlike anything I'd ever heard in the outer-rim territories. It was fair, proper … educated?   
  
She seemed unsure of herself now - her previous confidence gone.   
  
"I hesitated," she finally admitted. "I was too … afraid to run." At this, she slumped, resting gently against the dresser.   
  
For whatever reason, I went to her and wrapped my arms protectively around her. She leaned into my embrace gratefully.   
  
"I didn't want them to catch me," she continued, her voiced muffled against my shoulder. "I didn't want …" She trailed off, knowing that, as I fellow slave, I knew what she meant.   
  
"I'm sorry," I said, not really knowing what for. "I didn't mean to make it harder for you."   
  
"I know," she pulled away from me, and I let my arms fall to my sides. "Thank you for the opportunity." She rubbed her eyes and attempted to ignore an oncoming yawn.   
  
"You're tired. Get some sleep," I told her. Somehow, over the last few minutes, we had developed something … for some reason I felt as though I had known her forever. I could only hope she sensed the same thing.   
  
She nodded and moved towards the bed while I stayed at the door, preparing to leave.   
  
"Goodnight, Anakin," she said, a small, rare smile on her face.   
  
"Goodnight …" I looked at her expectantly, realizing that "girl" and "angel" probably wouldn't work as terms of endearment.   
  
"Padmé," she said. "My name is Padmé."   
  
"Padmé," I repeated, returning her smile. "Goodnight."   
  
With that I left, shutting the door in the process. My room was a few steps down the hall, a distance that I covered in a few seconds.   
  
My thoughts were racing, clouded with the images of Padmé - a name worthy of her beauty. Would she be the companion I had longed for? A friend? Surely, her freedom was the original goal, but if she had to stay, could she not keep me company?   
  
_You hope for too much,_ I told myself.   
  
I entered my room, willing my mind to clear. I even considered turning on Threepio to distract me, but I remembered how tired I was.   
  
Throwing off those expensive tunics, I prepared to sleep. I sat on my bed, ready to drift away, when I felt something hard against my hip.   
  
I reached into my pocket and retrieved the datachip Wiphshun had given me. Maecenas hadn't confiscated it.   
  
My first impulse was to find a datapad and learn as much about Padmé as possible, but I stopped myself before I even got off the bed.   
  
What right did I have to her personal information? I wanted to know her - everything about her - but not like this. I wanted her to trust me; I wanted her to tell me herself.   
  
I buried the chip deep in a pile of my machine parts. Hopefully Maecenas wouldn't realize that a datachip was part of the bargain, but if he did, he'd be hard pressed to find it in my mess.   
  
Satisfied, I turned off the light and closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself for a new day and the changes that would surly follow the rising sun.


	9. When the Morning Comes

**Author's notes: ***pokes ff.n to make sure it doesn't break*  Well, hopefully this thing's stable ;) Again, I want to thank you guys for wading through all the ff.n problems to leave reviews!

*****

**Part Nine (7/21/02)**

I was up earlier than usual the next morning. Perhaps my sleeplessness was caused by the excitement of what this new day could bring. Perhaps it was because I had slept so late yesterday. My first thoughts regarded the former.   
  
What would Maecenas do with Padmé? I think that question had haunted my dreams that night. I think it had crept into my wildest hopes and greatest nightmares.   
  
The need to end this constant stress forced my body to wake. I gently stretched and watched Threepio begin his wake up program. I realized sheepishly that I had been ignoring him these past few days.   
  
Sometimes Threepio was my only confidant. When I was younger, after leaving Tatooine and companions like Kitster behind, I had attempted to become friends with the new people that surrounded me. Maecenas wasn't an option, of course, and neither were the servant droids he kept about at all times.   
  
That left those I raced with. None of them were human, but I tended to get along fine with other species. Since I was the only one forced into racing against my will, however, their tendency for harsh competition and my continuous winnings often put our relationships at the professional level at best and bitter, murderous rivals at worst.   
  
So I was alone with Threepio.   
  
"Good morning, Master Anakin," Threepio said pleasantly. "You didn't activate me when you came in last night." He sounded disappointed.   
  
"Sorry, Threepio," I said, throwing on some clean clothes – or, rather, not dirty clothes. Maecenas, despite his wealth, wasn't one to spend it, especially on me. New garments and cleaning wasn't expensive by any means, but any way to save …   
  
"Pretty late party last night; I was tired," I continued, looking over at the droid as I put my boots on. His prissy attitude never left him, no matter how much I upgraded his systems. A stable personality, even if it was annoying at times, was comforting.   
  
"Did you have fun, Master?" Threepio asked.   
  
I grunted, unsure of how to answer. The whole experience the prior evening had been unforgettable, life altering, and emotionally charged … but _fun_?   
  
"I guess so," I admitted. "Something happened, Threepio." I stood straight in front of him, not quite ready to leave my bedroom.   
  
"Oh?" I often wondered if Threepio actually cared about my ramblings, or if his etiquette programming acted on his behalf. I suppose it didn't really matter either way, but I think he wanted to know just as much as I wanted to tell.   
  
"I met a girl," I began (oh, how often had I said _that_?). "Not just any bar girl, either. She's special."   
  
Threepio looked at me, but was amazingly silent. Being his creator, though, I could nearly read his mind: _Sometimes I just don't understand human behavior._   
  
"She worked at the Governor's," I went on. "She was a slave there." At this point, Threepio tilted his head the other way. He was surprised - I had never talked specifically about other slaves, and the girls I had spoken of before were not unlike Blondie. "And she's ours now."   
  
"Ours, Master Anakin?" Count on Threepio to see the flaws in my discussion.   
  
"Well, Maecenas's," I admitted. "But she's here, in the loft, now."   
  
My former guilt was still there, yet the excitement at the new situation had overwhelmed me this morning. Threepio also seemed pleased.   
  
"Will I meet her, Master?"   
  
"Yeah, hopefully," I nodded. "I better go see if she's all right first. You stay here."   
  
I didn't give Threepio a chance to answer me, because I was heading out the door in mid-sentence.   
  
I saw her door immediately - still closed, and, with any luck, she'd still be in there. I wanted to get to her before Maecenas did; her being here was my fault, and I had to do everything in my power to make sure she survived anything Maecenas could throw at her.   
  
I knocked and felt my breath catch in my lungs as she opened the door. She was still beautiful - her radiance never complete faded - but she had large circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. The bruise was still there, too, and, fortunately, hadn't swelled in any way. She was still dressed in the cloak from the night before, probably to keep her body hidden from any male gazes.   
  
"Hey, Padmé," I greeted, a small and respectful smile on my face. "Can I come in?"   
  
She looked me over as if deciding how much of a threat I'd be now that the day had begun. Her face was tight in concentration and worry, which made me even more nervous.   
  
She nodded, thankfully, and stepped back to let me through. The room was the same as I had left it, save for a few small creases in the still-made bed. Her small bag had been opened, and Padmé apparently was wearing something different under the cloak, as the metal bikini was thrown carelessly on a nearby chair. The dresser also contained a few items, perhaps personal mementos.   
  
I was never one for pleasantries or lies, so I spoke on the topic at hand. "How did you sleep last night?" My voice showed my concern - she'd need all the strength she could get to face this household on a daily basis.   
  
I turned to regard her. She moved away from the door and closed it. Maybe she knew to keep herself away from Maecenas's possible view.   
  
"All right," she told me, her eyes boring into mine. "But new places make me uncomfortable."   
  
I nodded, trying to think of something more to say. There was no weakness in her voice just then - it was like she was stating a universal fact rather than a personal flaw.   
  
I turned to sneak another view at the discarded bronze outfit. While contemplating my next words, I reached out to touch the faded mental with my thumb.   
  
_What horrors has she seen wearing this thing?_ I initially wondered, but then forced myself away from such thoughts. She was staring at me, her eyes painfully aware of my mysterious behavior. I didn't what to worry her further, so I openly told her what I was thinking.   
  
"This metal is pure," I said lamely. "Maecenas doesn't usually check for stuff like this. You could probably pawn it somewhere and keep the credits for yourself."   
  
"He doesn't have any other slaves, does he?" she asked as she returned to the bed and sat down. She tried to appear relaxed, but I knew she must still be somewhat weary. Pleased with the chance to talk with her like this, I carelessly swept the revealing costume aside and took control of the now free chair.   
  
"No, just me… and you now too, I guess," I admitted. "He doesn't want most people to know he owns slaves."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I race pods," I reminded her. "That's what he wants me for. Unfortunately for him, slavery is illegal on many of the planets that race pods and in the pro-circuit, which is where the biggest winnings are."   
  
"But, if no one knows …" she finished for me. I nodded, preparing to continue my story.   
  
"It isn't in my best interest to tell the racing committee because Maecenas still owns me," I added. We sat in silence for a moment as she absorbed what I had said.   
  
"Where did you come from?" she finally asked. "Where are your parents, your family?"   
  
The question was so straightforward that it shocked me. My head slumped a bit, and I leaned further back into the chair. To be honest, nobody had ever asked me that before. Many of those that I talked to were only interested in my racing career or themselves, like Blondie and the Duchess had been. Although I wanted to know more about her than to speak of my life, it was only fair to share.   
  
"I grew up on Tatooine," I started, my voice hazy as the memories flowed back. Many weren't painful, but I still missed … "My mother, Shmi, was a slave, too. I never knew my father. My previous master made me race pods, and Maecenas saw me one day. He gambled for me and won."   
  
Her eyebrows knotted in sadness for me, and I wondered, not for the first time, if the separation from her loved ones had been even more painful than my own.   
  
"What happened to your mother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper in fear of what the possible answer could be.   
  
"She didn't even stay long," I said proudly, happy that one thing had gone right in the galaxy. "A moisture farmer fell in love with her right after I left and freed her. They married, and I have a step-brother named Owen."   
  
Padmé seemed pleased by this turn of events. She lay down on the bed to hear my story further. Propping her head on her hand, she smiled at me.   
  
"Does she love him, too?" she questioned. Her eyes seemed dreamy now, as if caught in a fairy tale.   
  
"Yes," I sighed. "They're wonderful people, the Lars family. Every racing season on Tatooine, they make Maecenas an offer to buy my freedom. Each year, it's higher, but he never accepts."   
  
She smiled sadly at that last statement - possibly warmed by the love shown there and chilled by the cruelty of Maecenas at the same time.   
  
"Do you ever get to spend time with your mother?"   
  
"Sometimes, right before or after the racing season, Maecenas will let me visit them," I answered. "He must think it keeps me out of trouble." I shrugged, sinking deeper into my armchair.   
  
"And does it?" she asked, a soft smirk appearing on her face.   
  
"Well," I said, thinking; my brow knitted together. "Owen's a pretty boring guy." I stopped to allow a string of giggles to befall her. I marveled out heavenly her laugher sounded to my ears - so much different than the shrieks that came out of other girls.   
  
"It sounds like you have a great family, Anakin," she admitted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.   
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right," I smiled to myself. I had never considered Owen and Cliegg part of my 'family' before, but the more I thought about Padmé's statement, the more I liked the idea. She was right, of course - I had often had daydreams about living on the farm with all of them, settled and at peace with my daily work. That, most likely, would never happen.   
  
I pulled myself out of my pondering to meet eyes with Padmé. She had since returned to a sitting position on the bed - her face solemn, her eyes distant.   
  
"What about you?" I said, my courage finally coming through. "What about your family?"   
  
I immediately regretted asking this, because her face noticeably paled and her eyes became moist. Her story was obviously not as happy as mine was.   
  
"I'm sorry," I whispered quickly, reaching up from the chair to offer comfort if she should need it. "I didn't mean to …"   
  
"It's all right," she interrupted, pushing me away before I even had a chance to get near her. She got up from the bed as if to start pacing. I stood, unsure of what to do next.   
  
"My family … my p-" she started, only to be cut off by the loud opening of the door.   
  
Maecenas appeared in the frame, slightly hung over and looking as peeved as always. He was dressed in his daily business attire and was probably going to go to a meeting later.   
  
"Morning," he hissed, undoubtedly not meaning it. He turned to Padmé, who had since stopped moving. I felt the all too common lump enter my throat as Padmé self-consciously wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders.   
  
"Now," Maecenas continued, "what are we going to do with you?"


	10. What Maecenas Decides

**Author's Note: **Thanks again, a hundred times over, for the feedback, guys!

*****

**Part Ten (8/1/02)**

Maecenas was one of those people whose every movement could drive you insane, if you hated him enough. Of course, I hated him galaxies more than enough, and right now, as we sat in his office, he _paced_.   
  
It wasn't just aimless walking back and forth silently, mind you. No, Maecenas made an event out of it. He always did it when conjuring up a new scheme – usually one that was disadvantageous to me.   
  
His hand cupped his chin as he paced, scratching his goatee. The constant _kerripppp_ of the pads of his fingers touching the unshaved portion of his face would have generated sufficient noise to fill the entire room, had it not already been drowned out by the squeak of his boots, and the _whip-whip_ of his trousers, as his legs rubbed passed one another.   
  
I leaned back in my chair, allowing my head to rest on the wall behind me. I sighed quietly, willing myself not to think about the pacing.   
  
I saw Padmé give me a sidelong glance out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting next to me, but unlike my slouched form, Padmé's posture remained rigid and elegant. She returned her attention to Maecenas, and he stopped his movement.   
  
I was so grateful at the cease of the malicious pacing, that in my relief I almost missed what Maecenas said.   
  
"I'm sure Skywalker has told you all the juicy details, _girlie_," he began. "So, you must now realize that you don't have a place here."   
  
I turned to watch Padmé. Her eyebrow was less than a fraction away from what one might consider raised. She kept composed and only nodded at his statement.   
  
"I'm sure you can sell her back to one of the Grans," I offered, knowing when Maecenas wanted suggestions. "Perhaps a family needs a nanny or a housekeeper …" I'd often heard many places that have children were more hesitant about abusing their slaves; I wanted to give Padmé the best possible chance.   
  
Maecenas regarded me with a cold stare, designed to inform me that I was the biggest idiot this side of the Core.   
  
"In case you've forgot, we're leaving in less than five hours," he hissed. "Placing a listing in the trader would take a little too long." Cruel sarcasm dripped out of those words. I wanted to offer him a characteristic scowl, but quickly decided that this effort would prove detrimental to my cause.   
  
"Right," I 'remembered'. "Is slavery legal where we're going?"   
  
This planet was new to the pro-circuit - usually we stayed on Malastare until the Tatooine season started. Maecenas was always one for a good deal though, and he figured a new place would have serious credit potential.   
  
I didn't know this place at all, which was surprising because the listed coordinates showed it as being only a few light years away from Tatooine.   
  
"I don't know," Maecenas admitted gruffly, folding his arms across his chest. "The Neimoidians use droids for all their serving needs, so I don't think they'll have the demand. Many of the humans on Naboo are dirt poor - too poor to afford a whore."   
  
I would have reacted more heavily to that remark, but Padmé beat me to it. She immediately stiffened and let out a sharp intake of air. She completely ignored my gaze, and stared at Maecenas with wide eyes. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that those very same brown spheres were covered with a glaze of tears yet to fall.   
  
Padmé did not cry, however. She kept whatever emotion was causing those tears at bay, letting her eyes drop to her lap as her bottom lip continued to quiver. She wrapped her arms around herself and sat almost perfectly still.   
  
I wasn't the only one to see the change in her mannerisms, for when I snuck a peek in Meacenas's direction I noticed him looking at her in emotionless wonder.   
  
"Well," he continued, starting up the pacing again. "I'll figure it out when we get there. For now, make sure to pack all your garbage and get the ship ready for departure."   
  
I nodded, noting those words as my dismissal. Padmé, for the most part, was sitting, shell-shocked, and I was beginning to wonder why such a generic insult had unnerved her so.   
  
"Take the girl with you," Maecenas ordered. "I'm too busy to keep a watch on her."   
  
Thankfully, Padmé heard this command and was on her feet next to me - snapping out of her trance.   
  
Maecenas immediately turned back to the affairs on his desk, so Padmé and I left without so much as a final nod.   
  
We walked in silence back towards our rooms. Padmé was still distracted, so I wasn't very surprised when she followed me directly to my room. Her haziness faded though, when she saw the level of disrepair my living quarters were in.   
  
"You live like this?" she asked, her voice a weary half-mumble. I turned to offer her a sheepish grin, as she took note of my various clutter.   
  
"Only when I'm on Malastare," I said playfully, hoping to get a small laugh or even a smile out of my distressed guest. She locked eyes with mine as if her soul was trying to stay in this reality, and was slowly fading.   
  
I broke contact when I felt her heart-wrenching gaze too much to bear in this quiet room. I activated Threepio a few seconds later, hoping his presence would either cheer her up or annoy her into forgetfulness.   
  
"Master Anakin, you've returned," the droid stated the obvious. "I took the liberty of going on stand-by while you were away."   
  
Padmé tilted her head slightly to the side when she noticed Threepio. She stepped closer, moving away from the door towards the center of the room. Threepio saw her when she started walking, and immediately introduced himself.   
  
"Hello, Miss, I am See-Threepio, human cyborg relations, at your service," he said, reaching his metal hand out in greeting. Padmé took it tentatively, and the two shook. "Master Anakin told me you would be joining us. I am so pleased to meet you."   
  
"Pleased to meet you, too," Padmé said, allowing a small sign of a smile onto her face. I wanted to sigh in relief at this soft change.   
  
"I built him when I was a kid," I told her honestly. "Maecenas let me keep him as a hobby."   
  
"Built him?" Padmé asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I was about to answer when my protocol droid spoke up.   
  
"Master Anakin is my maker," he stated, as though it was the only information anyone would need.   
  
"I made him out of spare parts," I continued, giving Threepio a pat on the shoulder in hopes to calm some of his excitement.   
  
"Amazing," Padmé finally said, after a few seconds of looking him over. "I've never seen such fine craftsmanship in a protocol droid." She turned back to me, and must have seen the desire for approval in my face. "He's perfect."   
  
"Perfect?" Threepio asked, but his ramblings were drowned out in my mind by the echo of Padmé's praise.   
  
"Thanks," I said shyly. "He's great company."   
  
"Miss, pardon me, but what should I call you?" Threepio questioned Padmé, after his initial giddiness had quietened.   
  
"I'm Padmé," she told him. Now her sadness had faded some, but not completely. Somehow, I doubted it ever did. She placed it away from her mind, perhaps allowing her eyes to glisten slightly less over time.   
  
"Mistress Padmé," Threepio repeated, as if entering her name into his memory banks.   
  
"Just Padmé," she reminded him playfully.   
  
"Yes, Miss," Threepio agreed, causing Padmé to shake her head in pseudo annoyance.   
  
"I'm gonna pack up some of this stuff," I told her, reaching for a discarded shirt lying on the bed. "You don't have much stuff you're taking with you, so maybe you can stay in here and talk while I pack up?"   
  
I was worried that my eyes would show the desperate hopefulness that ran through me now, so I continued to focus on my clothes pile.   
  
"Sure," she responded, and made her way hesitantly to the bed. She cleared out a spot next to the pillow and sat down.   
  
I smiled up at her as I grabbed a pair of trousers that had been near my newly acquired shirt. I thought for a few minutes on what to say. I dropped some clothes into a bag as Threepio told Padmé about the numerous planets we had been to.   
  
Padmé listened politely, but any living being could tell that she wasn't really listening. Her gaze was distant; much like it had been when Maecenas called her a whore.   
  
"I'm sorry that Maecenas said those things about you," I spoke up softly, when Threepio took a rare rest between sentences. Threepio barely heard me, and was about continue when he noticed that Padmé's attention was focused on me.   
  
"What?" she asked honestly, confused. There was nothing in her voice that suggested she remembered her previous upset.   
  
"He said you were no better than a common pleasure girl back in his office." I threw a couple of more pairs of pants into the half-full bag. "It riled you up a bit. It made me mad, too. He shouldn't talk about you like that; it's not his place, no matter how much money he has."   
  
I was starting to feel the anger that was cut off earlier. It wasn't fair that he spoke to her like that; it wasn't fair that she just sat there and took it; it wasn't fair that I did nothing to stop him from saying it.   
  
"It's not your place to apologize for him, Anakin," she told me flatly. "I've been called worse."   
  
"Why were you so sad about it, then?" I asked, genuinely curious. She looked at me, as a womp rat caught by a wayward speeder would. When she realized what she was doing, she tilted her head down a bit.   
  
"It looks like you're almost done here," she said meekly. "I better go get my things, so I'll be ready when he asks."   
  
Before I could retort with the simple fact that I was nowhere near being done, she had manoeuvred though the room and out the door.   
  
"That was abrupt," Threepio stated, when the door closed. "Master, was she not interested in the gulf stream of Ando Prime?"   
  
"I don't know, Threepio," I admitted. I stared at the door, as if something would happen. If it wasn't Maecenas's comment, what had hurt her so? What had hurt her so that she would flee at the briefest mention of it?   
  
Padmé was a series of layers - a person with something to hide, or a past so horrid that she dared not remember.   
  
I could only hope that a trip to Naboo would help her. I had heard that the planet was quite naturally beautiful. She could perhaps find some peace there, however fleeting it would be.   
  
Threepio found a new subject to talk about, and I allowed his voice to accompany my mindless work.   
  
_Yes, Padmé is a mystery. A mystery I will unravel._


	11. The Multifunctional Hydospanner

Part Eleven (8/19/02)

Hyperspace is boring.   
  
Boring and cold.   
  
When I was younger, I used to have this grand dream about seeing every star in the galaxy - or was it every planet surrounding those stars? I honestly can't remember. I let that hope, that all-powerful goal, slip into the recesses of my conscious thoughts through my years of enslavement.   
  
After leaving Tatooine and seeing the galaxy - the _real_ galaxy - my childish fantasies swiftly came to a halt. I learned what the universe truly was - a larger version of scum-infested Mos Espa, full of people no less rotten than Sebulba himself.   
  
There were no magnificent adventures to be had, no planets in need of rescuing, and no beautiful angels to cry before…   
  
I told myself these facts daily and saw them with my own two eyes, but something inside, call it what you will - my soul, my heart, my childhood - never really let go of that little boy's wonder at all. I avoided those innocent feelings with such a passion that they had all but died.   
  
I had to. There would be too much pain if I didn't.   
  
I wondered if my eyes had lost some of their luster over years. Did they have a dull look to them? Could a person, with just a glance, look into my innermost suffering?   
  
Was Padmé the same way? Hiding her misery behind those bottomless brown eyes? Was there more to her than she let on?   
  
This is why I hate hyperspace. It makes me think too much.   
  
I changed my eyes' focus from the hydospanner I was currently twirling in my hand, to the depths of space beyond the cockpit's viewport. Hours of musing about Padmé had gotten me nowhere, and I was beginning to get sick of thinking about her.   
  
She hadn't said more than five words to me since she left my room, and only about half of those occurred after we boarded Maecenas's ship. She was in her assigned quarters now, and had only come out previously for a quick bite of food.   
  
The colors of hyperspace swirled into red from yellow, and I turned my attention back to my hydospanner baton. I had attempted to use it to work on Threepio during the journey, but he didn't need any repairs, and I had no parts to give him a systems upgrade. He had shut down a few hours before to conserve energy, leaving me alone with my thoughts.   
  
I needed a new project. _Perhaps I can build a droid for Padmé when we land on Naboo._   
  
I allowed myself a roguish smile; anything that kept Padmé occupied was time well spent.   
  
And so I started thinking about Padmé again. Every thought seemed to lead back to her. It would have helped if I could have talked to her, or even just be in the same room as her. Why was she being so difficult?   
  
If she would only tell me what was wrong, perhaps I could help her. However, what right did I have to desire her time and attention? Why should she confide in me when I had given her no reason to?   
  
_Stop thinking about her,_ I told myself. I decided to renovate my baton routine by throwing the hydospanner up into the air and catching it before it landed.   
  
I misjudged my trajectory though, and the tool landed on the cockpit floor with a loud crash.   
  
Before I even had the time to say, "oops," Maecenas's enraged yell filtered into the cockpit from the galley.   
  
"Skywalker! What the … are you trying to single-handedly destroy my ship?"   
  
"No," I bellowed back, picking up the hydospanner. "I just dropped something."   
  
Following that, there was a silence that could only mean the unseen Maecenas was scowling in the other room.   
  
"Come in here, boy," he returned in a slightly annoyed tone. "I want to keep an eye on you."   
  
Maecenas had this not _entirely_ misconception that I was a troublemaker at every possible opportunity. I wonder what gave him that idea …   
  
I threw the spanner back into the box with the other tools and walked into the galley. Maecenas was sitting and thoroughly enjoying a food so rare and delicate that I would never taste it.   
  
I unceremoniously plopped down on the floor against one of the walls. There was neither viewports here, nor miscellaneous tools to play with. And I thought I was bored before.   
  
"Where's that girl?" Maecenas asked in between bites.   
  
"She's still in the sleeping quarters," I told him honestly.   
  
"Huh? Strange one. Well, least she won't be causing trouble all the time," he replied after swallowing down another bite.   
  
I didn't bother to respond. Instead, I opted to lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. The only sound to offer me entertainment was the drone-like noise of Maecenas's chewing. Like his pacing, the chewing could drive me past the point of insanity.   
  
I tried my best to fill my mind with something else and settled on a Huttese drinking song.   
  
_Cho wai no passa   
ore re nesa   
nama nalla resa …_   
  
I didn't really notice when the words seeped past my mind and out my mouth, forming a soft sound that slowly rivaled the horrendous chewing.   
  
When this happened, Maecenas looked up from the meal, and stared at me in disgust. Of course, I couldn't tell you how long because I had my eyes closed, but it must have been long enough.   
  
"I didn't obtain you for entertainment purposes, Skywalker," he said gruffly. "Shut up."   
  
I opened one eye to regard him.   
  
"Sorry. Can I go check on Padmé?"   
  
"Whatever. Just stop making noise."   
  
I hopped up onto my feet and left the galley faster than I normally thought possible. The hallway aboard the little passenger yacht was only wide enough to let a larger sized human slip through - it wasn't created for what the designer would consider lesser species, like Wookies.   
  
At eighteen, I had pretty much finished the vast majority of my growing spurts, and thankfully, still fit in that passageway. I was tall but not bulky, which worked well enough on ships, yet not in pods.   
  
I neared the door that Padmé lurked behind. I pushed the trigger that released the pressure lock and opened the door. I felt somewhat cruel for not somehow notifying her of my desire to enter, but the solid metal door was nearly soundproof, which made knocking impossible, and did not contain a ringer.   
  
I found Padmé sitting on one of the bunks. Unlike the way she laid about the bed when I had told her about my family, she sat upright, still, and stiff. I think she had her head held down before I had come, but now she was looking straight at me. Her eyes, as narrow as they were, were glazed with tears.   
  
She had been crying.   
  
I felt my brow wrinkle in concern as I came to her side. I knelt before her bunk, resting one knee on the floor for support.   
  
She wiped her eyes and shook her head, as if denying that I was really there.   
  
"What happened?" I asked, knowing perfectly well that it had been an uneventful journey so far. She shook her head one more time.   
  
"It's nothing," she said with a false sense of strength.   
  
"You wouldn't be crying if it was," I reasoned. "You can tell me, Padmé, I'll listen."   
  
"I didn't ever say I wanted to tell you," she retorted, her voice returning to the sharp tone she had used the night before. She stood to effectively move away from me.   
  
I leaned back a bit, shocked and confused at her sudden outburst. I joined her in standing and stared at her until she decided to look back at me.   
  
"I know life is hard, Padmé," I said, refusing to lose my temper at her, "especially _this_ life. It'll get easier if we help each other. I spent my entire life like this; I know it for a fact."   
  
Padmé regarded me for a moment and crossed her arms around her chest.   
  
"You're still a boy, Anakin," she told me coldly. "You don't know anything." Without waiting for my reaction, the angelic slave girl stormed out on me for the second time in two days.   
  
"Typical," I mumbled under my breath before returning to the cockpit to play with the hydospanner.   
  
The rest of the trip to Naboo was painfully boring that it isn't even worth mentioning.   
  
When we reached the planet, Maecenas arranged for a shuttle to take us to our new living quarters, located in the human district of Theed. We took the trip in silence.   
  
I was surprised by the place. The architecture was an odd juxtaposition of older, more classical buildings and newer, industrial complexes. The former were quite beautiful, often made of hand carved stone, glass, and other such natural looking elements. In the places that were still touched by sun and visited by moisture, there were lush, green vines growing. The places that weren't so lucky - like the structures butted up against the complexes - had vines still attached, but had turned brown, withered, and died.   
  
The latter sections of buildings were made out of durasteel and tempered glass. They were coldly out of place in such a formerly warm environment. Some were as tall as hundred floors high, which shaded parts of the city for most of the day. Some of these complexes, I knew, not only held working quarters for the Neimoidians, but also their living quarters. They refused to live with the humans, who, for the most part, still occupied the stone buildings.   
  
If Maecenas's jabbering was to be believed, there was also a collection of droid production factories on the outskirts of town.   
  
The sweet twinge of moisture greeted my skin lovingly as we sped through the town in our open-air shuttle. I keenly looked for its source, thinking there might be a lake, river, or ocean nearby. My attention was caught by a large wall on the far side of the city. It must have been a dam, blocking a series of waterfalls that had once flowed against the Viceroy's palace.   
  
I must have had been gaping at my surroundings for a while, but both my current companions had yet to speak.   
  
Padmé was completely shrouded in her cloak, and I couldn't even make out the features of her face, even from my sitting position right next to her.   
  
Maecenas was staring at a datapad and constantly running his hand through his hair - as if the wind was screwing it up.   
  
Threepio was stored away with the rest of the luggage on a separate speeder. That was probably a good thing; I didn't think I could handle his running commentary on this new planet's wonders.   
  
"You're scheduled to do a practice run tomorrow," Maecenas spoke up, surprising me. "The judges will want to make sure your pod's up to spec. The run won't be on the actual racetrack. You won't be allowed on it until the day of your first race."   
  
I nodded slowly, biting my lip in contemplation. Racing on a track I had no knowledge of could at best cost me a victory, at worst my life.   
  
"I want you go out tonight, get a feel for the people here," my owner continued. "Find the major bidders, your competition, and any support you can. The humans here hate aliens, so a human racer might get the best bets."   
  
I allowed my eyes to fall unceremoniously to my knees. I noticed Padm's fingers twisting brutally at the seam of her cloak, causing red marks on her hands.   
  
My teeth griped the inside of my cheek, and I forced myself to return my gaze to Maecenas without saying anything about Padm's fidgeting.   
  
"Can I take her with me?" I gestured to Padmé.   
  
"No, she'll hurt your chances," Maecenas stated.   
  
I nodded again, this time more sadly, and prepared to sit the rest of the trip quietly. Surprisingly, Maecenas spoke a few moments later.   
  
"Take some credits with you," he nearly laughed out. "Have some fun; get it out of your system before the races."   
  
_How nice of him_, I thought sarcastically as I leaned back into my seat.


	12. A Wizard Trick

**Author's Notes:** Well, I have returned. Perhaps for good, but who honestly knows these days. And so the Story continues ... forgive any grammatical errors - I have not had this beta read - and the shortness - it seemed like a good place to stop. 

* * *

**Part Twelve (4/22/04)**

The speeder pulled alongside the entrance of a quaint inn. It was in the human sector of the city, nestled in between two similar buildings. Here the ivy still grew strong and lazily streamed down the cream colored walls. These walls were made from natural, coarse stone, which had been cut roughly into the shape of brinks and placed together as if they were conjoining pieces of a large-scale game puzzle.

Despite the mismatched formation of the facade, the rock created the impression of well-conceived beauty and unity. These buildings had been designed not by a mere day labor, but by loving architect, who had seen fit to incorporate nature into the human realm.

But enough of my rambling; I'm certainly no critic and my description could never give the city of Theed a grand enough eloquence. It must be sufficient to simply say that it was awe-inspiring.

Needless to mention that Maecenas hated it. He barely waited for the speeder to stop before jumping out on to the curb and yelling at the driver of our transport.

"What?" he hissed. "I asked the committee chairman for deluxe accommodations! Not some prewar-relic-turned-hostel. This is Anakin Skywalker!"

Yes, as we all know, I was only the galactically famous podracing hero when it suited my master. I found it painfully ironic, but I covered my emerging smile with my hand so as not to irritate Maecenas even further.

The droid pilot didn't brother to turn his hand to look at the fuming gambler. 

"The committee assigned you here, Glowing Leaf Inn, corner of Fourth and B, Sector Eighteen," he answered. There was no hint of annoyance or sarcasm in the droid's voice, he was programmed to drive and drive alone.

I followed Maecenas with my own jump from the speeder. I offered the still shrouded Padmé a helping hand up, which she took gracefully and silently. She lifted one foot up over the side and prepared to step down onto the curb, but her other foot caught against the speeder's side. She lost her balance and tumbled into my arms. 

If anyone could tumble with elegance and poise, it would be Padm ...

I caught her, of course, by sliding my hand quickly under her arm and around her abdomen. My other hand flew to her elbow as she cascaded down to me. The contact of our bodies was surprisingly gentle, but our foreheads nearly met in a forceful collision. She threw her head back a second before the impact, causing her hood to fall back around her shoulders and reveal that beautiful face once more.

My breath stopped in my throat as I beheld both her and our precarious placement. Her eyes were still red and puffy, makeup-less, but it seemed as through she had not shed tears too recently. We stared at each other for maybe a day ... or was it mere seconds?

I've never actually met a person that could distort time and space quite like Padmé.

"Thank you," she said honestly, quietly, and without any intention of offering more.

"Don't mention it," I managed to say, "yours is a sweet weight."

_A what? Anakin Skywalker, by the gods on high, you did not just say that aloud! _ I was no poet, to be sure, and such sayings only made that fact appear more obvious. I felt like a complete fool until I saw Padm's reaction.

She smiled. Not a crack of the lips in jest, mind you, but a pleasant, genuine smile.

I smiled back.

"Well, take us back downtown," Maecenas said, his voiced pitched. "We'll check into a proper hotel there."

Had he been yelling at that droid the entire time? 

"Forgive me, Sir," the droid answered, "but those lodgings are reserved for the Neimoidians." His dull, monotonous voice presented a sharp contrast to Maecenas's.

Before my master could continue with this pointless conversation, I interrupted:

"I don't think he's going to listen - just another dumb droid. You're going to have to get on the comlink with the Neimoidians."

Padmé slid herself completely out of my grip as Maecenas attempted to give me one of his blood chilling stares. I shrugged. When I'm right, I'm right, and even Maecenas could do nothing about it.

"Fine," he finally snorted. "Grab all your junk. But don't unpack; we won't be staying here too long." He directed his death-gaze to the droid, who could still not care less, and arrogantly walked into the lobby.

The rooms themselves made me want to stay at the inn even more. The stone walls were also present on the inside and decorated with cloth panels instead of ivy. The furnishings complimented the rock perfectly, matching the calm coloring with an array of beige, cream, soft pink, and green fabrics. The place was entirely comfortable in its basic design and, in this respect, reminded me of the dwellings on Tatooine. 

Another possible attribute: only two bedrooms.

Maecenas didn't hesitate in assigning both Padmé and I to the smaller of the rooms. He was still too irritated to really care about the fact that we would have to share a room; he complained about the "filthy, low class" furniture until he managed to get the representative of Naboo's podracing committee on the line.

Not wanting to hear Maecenas's griping any longer, both Padmé and I retreated into the back bedroom.

"I'll take the floor," I said as I threw a large pile of semi-folded clothes into the corner, allowing my whole wardrobe to greet its new home in a single shove. I pulled out a few blankets from the horde and arranged them comfortably on the ground. 

I could hear Padmé sitting on the bed behind me as I plopped myself down on my makeshift bed, turning around to face her in the process. She had removed her cloak and sat it beside her, folding it neatly.

"Are you sure?" she asked. She didn't look at me, instead her eyes focused on the seam of her dress.

"Yeah, of course," I said. I leaned into the cloth, burying myself in the folds.

"Anakin," she started, her voice low. There was a slight pause as she forced her eyes to lock upon mine. "I'm sorry I snapped at you on the ship. I was upset, it wasn't your fault. Thank you for all your kindness. Really, I needed someone to care."

"You're welcome," I responded, beaming at her compliment. There was comfortable silence for a moment as we both smiled like to schoolchildren. I couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same attraction for me as I did for her. My usual formula for courting wouldn't work on Padmé - not that I would want it to - but, since that was the case, I had no real way of truly discovering her feelings.

So I did the next best thing: I continued to talk.

"So, um," I started, "where'd you grow up?"

She lowered her head quickly, her eyes closed, and she looked like she was about to start crying again. Could I do nothing right?

I changed the subject as quick as I could. "Hey, do you want to see a magic trick?"

That chestnut colored main rose sharply, and she turned her gaze back on me, slightly confused.

"What?" she asked. Her eyebrows rose.

Noticing that her interest had stopped her grief at least momentarily, I jumped up and sat next to her on the bed.

"Watch," I told her. "It's really wizard, you'll see."

I gently pulled off one of the pins, which were holding her hair back against her scalp. Her hair cascaded over her face, but she shoved it recklessly behind her ears and focused her attention on the pin.

I held it out in my hand, resting it in the center of my palm. Then I concentrated on that little pin with my entire will, forcing all my thoughts and desires on it, until the whole universe consisted of just the two of us. Much like the focus I used while podracing or at that sabacc game, but, instead of seeing the near future or a present that was otherwise invisible, I activity worked to change my surroundings.

I wanted the pin to move, willed the pin to move, and saw the pin moving in my mind's eye.

And so it moved.

The hairpin lifted from my palm and floated in mid air, spinning slowly on a vertical axis. I could feel the sweat beading up on my brow, but I ignored it. My breathing was steady, as if some other part of my mind had taken over its regulation, and I was completely calm.

I have no idea how long I managed to hold it aloft, but Padm's gasp finally broke the link I had established. The pin dropped back onto my palm, and I came back into reality with my soul surprisingly at peace.

Padmé grasped my outstretched hand, pulling it down suddenly and forcibly. I looked back up at her, confused by her harsh touch. Her face was a mask of shock and fear. Her hand was nearly shaking as she crushed my palm against my knee.

"Anakin," she managed to say in a hoarse whisper, "where did you learn how to do that?" 

"Nowhere," I answered her truthfully and without hesitation, as her fear was quickly seeping in to me. What had I done wrong this time? 

"Anakin," she repeated even more urgently, "tell me."

"I swear, Padmé," I said, my mind reeling. "I taught myself. It's just something I can do."

"Are you a Jedi?"

My throat grew even drier than I thought possible. Me, a Jedi? Violent flashes of the recent holoreports flew through my mind. The bounties on Jedi were ridiculously high - more credits for one Jedi corpse than I could make in an entire plant circuit - and their heads had to be delivered to the Supreme Chancellor himself. They were lower than the slime that crawled the streets of Mos Espa; they were galactic assassins.

"Padmé," I cried out, nearly in shock, "I am not a Jedi. I've never even seen one in my entire life, I swear, I swear."

Padmé visibly relaxed and clasped my now sweaty hand between both of her own. She continued to look me straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Anakin," she said, her voice soft, almost as a mother to a child. "Have you ever done that in front of people, in public?"

I shook my head fiercely. "Just to you, and the Lars. Not even Maecenas."

"Anakin," she began, but then paused as if looking for the right words, "that's a Jedi trick. If somebody sees you ... they could turn you in, Anakin, they could kill you." Her tone betrayed nothing but seriousness, harsh and concerned.

"But I'm not a Jedi," I said again, my voice cracking.

She placed one of her hands on my shoulder, trying to comfort me in my distress, but I could barely feel it.

"It doesn't matter," she said soothingly. "You're of their blood. It's enough."

"No," I hissed, "I'm not one of _them_." I stood, pulling myself away from her and desiring, more than anything, to escape this room that seemed to be such a haven only a short time ago. I was not an innate criminal; I was the son of a slave, foster son to a farmer.

Padmé was surprised by my sudden movement, but she held up her hands in defense, almost trying to reach out for my fleeing form.

"It isn't necessarily a bad thing, Anakin," she told me, "the Jedi were good beings once, benevolent. You just have to be careful."

"I'm not a criminal," I said louder than I had to.

"Anakin," she started, but I wasn't listening to her. My mind was wandering, switching between the tapestry at Wiphshun's and the wanted posters plastered in every bar I'd set foot in since the beginning of the season.

I had to leave. I had to get some fresh air. I turned and left, not bothering to say farewell to Padmé.

I thought I heard her say, "but they were my friends," as I fled, but I couldn't turn around. I couldn't stop. 

Maecenas looked up from his comlink as I passed him in my race towards the front door, but he didn't call me back - it was close enough to dusk to warrant the start of my usual nocturnal outings.

I nearly broke out into a run as I reached the lobby; I don't know if it was panic or denial that kept me moving and I didn't really care.

The warm air of a spring dusk greeted me as I exited the lobby. I sucked it in greedily and tried to focus my eyes on the light hues of purple and pink that filtered through the sky. After a few moments of even breathing, I jogged away form the inn, lest Padmé or Maecenas attempted to follow me. 

I needed to be alone now. I sank down into a crouch upon finding an abandoned alleyway. I leaned my head against wall and sighed.

I remembered when I had first shown my little trick to my family. My mother had smiled and clapped, Owen stood dumbfound, and Cliegg had become scared, but never told me that it was wrong or that it was a Jedi skill.

But, as much as I hated to think about it, as much as I wanted to deny it or ignore it, the feeling was there. Yes, the feeling that I had always known that my place was not with the podracers, the slaves, or the even farmers, but with the Jedi.

That was the urge that I felt when I saw that tapestry. I had belonged there, with those lasersword-wielding figures, in the heat of battle.

But, how was that even possible? 

I was Anakin Skywalker, slave and podracer. I wasn't a hero, I wasn't a criminal, I just was.

_Have some fun_, Maecenas's words crept into my conscious at the most opportune moment.

Have some fun indeed. I picked myself up and headed to the nearest tavern, decisively ready to drown my fears, shock, denial, and self-proclaimed fortunes in a large amount of alcohol. 


	13. A Regretful Night

 SEQ CHAPTER h r 1**Author's note: **Wow!  First, thank you to all the readers that still remember this story and are still willing to review.  And, second, to all the new readers, glad you like!  Sorry again for the lack of beta reading ...

Now, if only I can get ff.n to do the mark up codes right.  Hum.

**Part Thirteen (5/08/04) **

Although I can never prove whether it was the burning beam of the sun's rays on my face or the throbbing headache that woke me, I would venture a guess towards the latter.

Oh, how my head hurt.

I uneasily put my hand upon my forehead and groaned.  _If there was one bad thing about getting absolutely drunk it would be the hangover_, I surmised as I rubbed my face gently.

"_And so I wait, waiting for you ..." _

The unfamiliar singing caused my eyes to snap open in an instant.  I didn't recognize the song, I didn't recognize the singer, and, of course, naturally, I didn't recognize the room.

My curious eyes wandered about for a few minutes, mesmerized by the new surroundings.  It was a simple place - a bedroom constructed out of the same rock as the inn.  A few holopics were spread along the wall, but my eyes were itching far too badly to make out the forms that were represented in them.  I could also see a dresser covered with various glass bottles.

I rubbed my eyes again and attempted to sit up.  My head must have made a large whooshingsound as I rose, but only I alone was able to hear it.  I suppressed the urge to throw up and focused solely on breathing.  The need subsided and then I realized just how thirsty I truly was.

How much had I drunk last night?

Well, I supposed, it was enough it get me from the tavern into this room, shirtless, and into that girl's bed.

'That girl' was a pretty little brunette wearing a lose tunic that came down to her knees.  She had just walked into the room, still dancing to the inaudible music in her head.  She stopped when she saw that I was awake.  Hopping on the bed, she greeted me with a quick peck on the lips.  

"How'd you sleep?" she asked pleasantly, wrapping her arms around my neck and sitting on my thighs.  She tilled her sweet, rounded face and smiled.

My head was pounding so violently that it nearly sent me into a dizzy spell, and I could feel the blood leaving my stomach and rushing up to further overwhelm my brain.  Nonetheless, I tried to imitate her smile.

"Fine," I answered, wondering if she could smell the alcohol on my breath, for I certainly smelled it on hers.

Her grin grew wider and she kissed me yet again.  This time the full force of her lips crushed down upon my own.  I accepted her embrace with such an urge that I had actually surprised myself slightly.   Now if only I could remember her name.

I broke contact and stared into the girl's deep brown eyes, searching, but her identity eluded me.  I couldn't recall anything about last night except walking out of the inn and deciding to get drunk.  A pang of guilt hit me when I realized that I had left Padmé for the entire night without so much as telling her where I was heading.

My face must have held a negative reaction to this thought because my new cohort touched my cheek gently with the tips of her figures.

"Are you all right, love?" she asked affectionately.

I decided to tell her the truth and bear the chance of being thrown out of her room without first finding my clothes.  I swallowed harshly; my throat was unbelievably dry.  

"I don't remember very much," I admitted, "I think I had too much to drink."

Her smile fell and she looked down in shame.  She unraveled herself from my embrace and slid off the bed.   I truly felt bad for hurting her feelings, but, if I can avoid it, I never lie, especially to women that I became freely involved with.  I didn't often see the point in foolish masquerades, as the majority of my public life was a farce to begin with.

"We met at a cantina on B and Two in Sector Eighteen," she said softly, answering my unspoken question.  She refused to look at me, instead her eyes focused on the holopics.  "I work as a maid there.  We talked for a while, then I offered for you to spend the night."  She stopped for a moment and sighed dejectedly.

"I'm sure I whole-heartedly agreed," I said, wondering why the poor girl was so morose.  She was quite stunning for a barmaid and it was difficult to believe that she would have to wheel home drunk boys to have a relationship.

"I don't usually behave that way," she said as if directly answering my thought.  "I think I was hoping that, if we could pretend that this was something other than it actually was, I could still retain some shred of self respect."

"Oh," I answered.  I liked this girl.  I wasn't sure if it was because of her beauty or the manner she used in expressing her feelings, for they both pleased me.  "I'm Anakin."

She looked back at me, trying to judge the level of my sincerity.  I attempted a lame smile and waited for her to reply.  Her face had reddened from the initial embarrassment of the situation, but she was calming down somewhat now.  She sat down on the bed once more, this time only next to me instead of on me.

"Saché," she said.

I nodded and we stared at each other in awkward silence for a few moments more.  I had wanted to keep my head thoughtless, but it was nearly impossible given that whole mess.

It had been a while since I gone to a girl's place for the night, I had to admit, but it wasn't an unusual event for me to do so.  You know the phrase "girl in every port" used to talk about freelance spice merchants?  Well, you could say that about me, minus the concept of it being the same girl per port.

As a young and attractive race star, the amorous, playboy attitude had been expected of me since not long after puberty.  Maecenas didn't mind it, it got me out of his place, and, hey, it made me forget about the hell that was my life.  Benefits all around.

Then how come I felt so guilty as I stared into Saché's wide, brown eyes?  That question began to haunt my thoughts until the answer swam up into my conscious.

They were so much like Padmé's.

"I have to go," I said suddenly, jumping up.  Upon vaulting from the mattress, I began searching for my clothes.  I spotted my shirt near the foot of the bed, not far from one over-turned boot.

Saché watched as I dressed and, as near as I could tell from the corner of my eye, had a small pout on her face.  I was feeling absolutely awful at this point - now that I realized the exact reason why my intoxicated self had courted this particular girl last night - and couldn't bare to look at her directly.

"You can stay, you know," she said, hopeful.  "I know this little diner a few blocks down.  We could catch a late breakfast or perhaps an early lunch?"

I stopped my garment hunting and faced her.  My overwhelming guilt was completely replaced an even more mind-numbing fear.

"What time did you say it was?" I asked, preying that she was simply mistaken.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, confused by my changing reactions.

"Late morning," she answered, confirming her former statement.

"Blast!" I nearly yelled as I began to throw on my shirt and pants.   _Maecenas is going to kill me_, I repeated to myself as I got dressed.  Not only was in far past dawn, but I also had an appointment for a practice run with the pod at noon.

And, unlike many others, when I said, "Maecenas is going to kill me," I figured it to be the truth.  There would be a beating at the very least.

"Are you all right?" Saché asked in a concerned tone.  "Do you have someplace to be?"  She sounded disappointed, but I didn't have the time to console her.

"I'm a podracer," I said as I slipped on my boots.  "I've got a run today.  I think I'm going to be late."

My head picked the perfect time to remind me of the hangover, but I didn't have the time to ask Saché for a pain medication.  Now fully clothed, I took a second to rub my temples with the tips of my thumb, willing the throbbing to stop.

"Are we going to see each other again?" she asked in a quiet voice, as if she were trying not to sound too forward.

"Um, yeah," I said uneagerly.  "Come down to my hanger after the race tomorrow.  It's the blue and white striped flag."

As I look back on that statement, I'm not really sure why I had said it.  Was it because I didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings and dash her hopes?  Was it because I actually felt attracted to her beyond the fact that she looked like Padmé?  Or was it because of the fact that my brain was about to seep out of my skull and there was no thought left in it?

Again, probably the latter. 

Despite the fact that my vision was slightly blurred, I managed to find my way out Saché's door and down to the street.  I looked around, attempting not to be blinded by the rather direct noon sun.  My stomach twisted and I was grateful only because I didn't have to walk underneath the heat of Tatoo I and II.

And there was a problem still: although the streets and buildings were similar to those surrounding the inn, nothing looked familiar.  I remembered the alley and the tavern, but I certainly didn't know where either was in relation to Saché's apartment.  With just under an hour before my appointment, I was totally lost in the middle of a large city.

I wasn't usually the type of person to panic in that sort of situation; normally I liked wandering about aimlessly and discovering new places and people.  But if I missed the time slot, I wouldn't be able to race, and then I wouldn't be able to enter the championship.  _No championship, no prize money.  No money makes Maecenas very angry_.

I darted through block after block, looking for anything that would point me in the right direction.  When one route became clearly false, I turned around and took another until I was covered in a layer of sweat.  When I no longer could remember which road went where or even which held Saché's building, I decided to take pause and lean my forehead against a sidewall, allowing the stone to cool me.

"Blast, blast," I said out load, cursing myself for being so stupid.  Why had I stayed out so late?  Why did I have so many drinks?

"Anakin?" I heard a familiar voice say a few meters away.  I looked up, hoping for a miracle and that somebody had found me.

And, like a dream, Padmé appeared before me.  She was fully cloaked, despite the midday heat, and I probably wouldn't have been able to recognize her if she hadn't said anything.

"Pad-" I began, but she rushed up and put one finger over my lips before I could finish.  I was a little surprised by the movement, but was far from being displeased by it.  

She glanced up at me through the folds of her hood, but those beautiful eyes were unreadable.

"Maecenas sent me out looking for you," she told me.  Her voice held a bit of irritation, but no real anger.  

"How'd you find me, anyway?" I asked, surprised that she could navigate Theed's streets so well.

"He said to meet him near the inn's entrance," she said, ignoring my question altogether.  She grabbed my hand and led me down the road in curious silence.  I followed her, trusting her judgment, but it felt strange.  The hand that griped mine was icy and moist, while the other attempted to help her cover her hooded face even further.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, beginning to worry at this behavior.  She had been reserved and distant ever since we left Malastare.  I thought I had gotten her to open up back at the inn, just as she seemed to take a liking to me the morning after I had won the sabacc game, but she was yet again lost in her mysterious shroud of stolidity. 

She said nothing as we dodged into an abandoned alleyway and through several twists and turns.  I was completely confused by her uncanny ability to simultaneously find the seemingly quickest route while adhering to the less-populated intersections.  

"Padmé," I began again, "please.  Tell me what's going on."  She gripped my hand harder and yanked with more force than I thought possible, causing me to fall forward a few steps.  In the process, she sped up even more.

"Hey," I groaned, trying to maintain my balance.  "Could you please take it easy?"

I didn't honestly expect her to respond, so I just matched her pace and sighed to let her know how distressed I was.  

I could only walk silently and wonder why Padmé was appearing to be so cross with me - if that was indeed what was going on.  The first and most logical explanation was that she somehow found out about my night with Saché, but that was unlikely.  She possibly could have been still vexed at my reaction and hastily retreat from our room yesterday.  But she knew I was just upset and I hadn't been overtly mean.  Why would that make her angry?  

I stared ahead at the back of her hood, my brow knitting in contemplation.  

"If I did something, I'm sorry," I finally managed to say.  I thought that would cover both possibilities equally well.

"Anakin," Padmé hissed, turning around.  She looked straight at me; those eyes were now filled with annoyance.  "Be quiet."

_That _was not what I was going for, to be sure.  

"Huh?" I asked, confused.  "Why?"

We were in the middle of a huge street in a rather large metropolis.  People stood all around us, going about their day completely unresponsive to the affairs of one young, albeit foreign couple in their midst.  I felt safe there; it was clean, bright, and, unlike most podracing planets, very human.  Why was Padmé so jumpy?

She mumbled something and continued to pull me along.  Thankfully, before my smashed figures became broken, we reached the inn.  Maecenas was standing near the front, next to our speeder, just like Padmé had predicted.

And he looked really upset.  I groaned.

"Skywalker," he grunted loudly at the precise point we came into hearing range, "I know this is a different, strange, and wonderful new planet, but what part of DAWN seems to be lacking here?"

I gritted my teeth harshly, remembering my sunrise curfew.  I pondered whether I should speak in my defense.  Sometimes silence was the best route, and it would work especially well in this case - seeing as I'd rather not tell Maecenas about my evening activities when Padmé was so near.

I bit my lip and looked down at my feet in submission, waiting for Maecenas to finish his rant.

"I suppose you think that, since you have a run today, I'll let this little slip go, don't you?" he said, beginning a familiar routine between the two of us.  "Well, the first race isn't 'til tomorrow night.  You'll have plenty of time to look healed before then."

My limbs froze at his statement.  Not only did I not even remember the night that was going to cost me so dearly, feel guilty about sleeping with a girl that wasn't Padmé, and had to do a practice run with a hangover, but I also was going to be beat.

_Blast it all to hell_, I thought.

"Well, then," I answered with all the sarcasm I could muster at the moment.  "Let's just hope that you don't have some nasty old woman on the sidelines waiting for a night out.  My backside might not be in the mood."

He smacked me with the palm of his hand.  It wasn't exactly a gentle hit, but it didn't send me flying to the ground, either.  A fair trade, in my opinion.

"Let's get going before we get any later," he growled and headed towards the landspeeder that my pod was hitched to.  I rolled my eyes and followed without compliant.  But Padmé remained standing still, looking at the two of us with wide eyes.

"Do I have to come?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the street traffic.

"What girlie?" Maecenas hissed, not wanting his indignation to be interpreted.  He stopped abruptly half way in between the door and the speeder, causing me to nearly run into his back, and stared angrily at poor Padmé.

"I think she wants to stay here," I said for her.  I was slowly gaining my self-confidence back.  I was going to need it for controlling the pod.  

"Oh, no," Maecenas answered.  "You're coming.  Deal."

She nodded her hooded head softly and climbed into the speeder with us.


	14. Green Fields

**Author's note: **I'm a lazy, lazy bum! Read the profile (evil grin)

* * *

**Part Fourteen (6/26/04)**

Over the arduous decade since I began my career as a podracer, I had seen many different types of tracks. The manifold was nearly endless, everything from rock to dirt to water, even, if the climate was right. They all had one thing in common, though – they were all _tracks_.

I felt my eyebrow rise as I stared at the vast expanse of grass field before me. The hilly green stretched for kilometers in every direction, and the only defining feature of the landscape was a long row of orange markers that ran off into the distance.

Well, I supposed one could indeed call that a track. Maybe.

Maecenas grunted as he surveyed the place, probably having thoughts along the same route as mine. I could only hope that he wouldn't take this mess out on me.

I jumped out of the speeder and began to unhook my pod. I worked mindlessly and wondered if my poor head would stop throbbing any time soon. I was starting to see bands of colors around the edges of my vision, and that is never a good sign.

When the pod was free from the tow, I ran my hand over it gently, making sure that it had survived the journey from Malastare intact and didn't have any scratches or dents from the maintenance droids that usually loaded and unloaded the ship with an unnecessary amount of force.

To say that I loved that pod would certainly be an overstatement, but I did have to entrust my life to it in every race, so a high level of caring and respect were often required. I had built this pod, much like I had built Threepio and the pod I had used as a kid, but it lacked the attachment I felt for either of my other two creations.

When Watto lost me to Maecenas, my childhood racer had not been part of the deal. I had constructed that pod from the leftover scraps I found in the junkyards around my hovel. It had taken years to complete – an especially long time for a child – and, when Watto found it, I was almost happy that I was finally able to have the opportunity to use it.

And I was unstoppable in it.

I had designed it for myself, for a human, really, setting the controls to be comfortable while I operated them. I imagine that many other podracers wouldn't have even been able to control it and that, of course, made it even more special to a young boy's pride.

Its loss was just another grief I experienced when Maecenas took procession of me, but was overshadowed heavily by the more bitter homesickness. I didn't even think about it until the day of my first race as I sat in an alien pod, unfamiliar with any of the controls.

We switched pods on a regular basis, nearly every season, trying to find the best vehicle to suit my racing style. Finally, at fifteen, I gave up the search, and asked Maecenas to allow me to build another, custom pod. He agreed, and, unlike Threepio and the other pod, I had every resource available for its construction. If I can say so, it was a masterful work of art, the closest thing I had ever gotten to perfection in machinery.

Like I had told Wiphshun, that podracer was certainly worth twice as much as Padmé and, if Maecenas decided to ever sell me, worth as much as me. How odd is it that something you made has the same market value as you do?

I saw out of the corner of my eye another speeder pulling up next to ours. A green creature dressed in a needlessly pompous outfit got out. He – if he was actually a he; I had no way of knowing – looked directly at me first. Feeling the tension of his gaze, I looked up from my inspection of the racer and stared back.

He wasn't the most attractive of aliens, that much could be said. His face was bumpy and scaly, reminding me of the hides of krayt dragons on Tatooine. This lizard wasn't nearly as fierce looking as the monster of the canyons, though; with his down-turned lips, he actually resembled a child's doll. His red-tinted eyes were the only starling feature, and I fought the urge to shudder as his oval pupils evenly held my stare.

He was a Neimoidian, one of the race that ruled Naboo. I could only guess that he was the head of the racing committee.

"Anakin Skeeewalker?" he asked, slurring my name in a rather strange accent.

I nodded and stepped forward, away from the pod, and offered out my hand to shake. He glanced down at it and then focused those nasty eyes back on my face. His own hands never left the sleeves of his long robe.

Apparently, a little friendly contact wasn't a custom among those beings.

Maecenas approached us from behind and put a fatherly hand on my shoulder. I tried not to openly shudder at the feeling lest the Neimoidian notice the animosity that suddenly thickened the surrounding air.

"I am Daultay Dofine," the Neimoidian continued. "I am the overseer of the podracing event."

"Cilnii Maecenas," my master answered in return. I wasn't under the opinion that the creature Dofine wanted such a response, but Maecenas was always accustomed to giving one. Dofine only nodded his acknowledgment and returned his full attention to me.

"This," Dofine said, pointing to my pod, "is the craft in which you will be racing?"

I blinked twice, slower than necessary, and then sarcastically followed his elongated finger with my eyes to where my racer sat. I then turned my head slightly to the side and placed my tongue against my cheek, as if contemplating his statement.

"You mean that craft?" I asked, pointing to the pod as well. The Neimoidian nodded, confused at my behavior. "Um," I began.

After a few seconds of my mocking, Maecenas simply smacked the back of my head.

"Yeah," I finally said. Who could blame me for making such a fool of the alien? What other _craft _could I use in a podrace save for a podracer? And since there was only one there …

Yes, I am quite the vicious little womprat some days.

Those red orbs shifted focus to Maecenas and then back to me, but Dofine decided not to comment on my remark.

"It meets the required specifications?" he asked instead. He showed neither irritation nor amusement at the situation, but kept his face and posture nearly lifeless and rather icy.

"Yes," Maecenas answered for me and pulled the pod's spec chip out of his purse. He handed it to Dofine, who snatched it quickly, as if he couldn't bear to touch Maecenas' hand.

"I think you'll find everything in order," Maecenas continued as the alien read through the chip's contents on his datapad.

"We must run our own diagnostic," Dofine said, looking up from the document. "It will take a few moments. Then you must pilot along this track. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," I responded as a group of droids exited Dofine's speeder and headed towards my pod. I watched them for a few seconds – interested in every sort of mechanical process as I was – but Dofine drew my attention back with a simple enough statement.

"You are racing in the fifth heat tomorrow night," he said after glancing once more at his pad.

"Pardon?" I said, surprised. "Did you just say 'heat?' I was under the impression that this was a pro-circut planet."

Only open-circuit planets had heats. In podracing, as in any sport, I suppose, there was always a substantial gulf between professional racing and amateur racing. Many planets, such as Malastare, Aquilaris, and Baroonda, hosted races that were only open to the best racers – the professionals, so to speak – that had continuously proven themselves on the most difficult courses. Thus a professional podracer usually only had to pilot two or three races per planet, and each race would have its own prize pot.

Because all the racers involved were experienced cutthroats, myself included, the pro-circuit races drew the largest crowds and the most credits. And I imagine, then, it would be useless to explain to you why Maecenas let me only race in the pro-circuit.

What may come as a surprise to you, however, is the fact that that arrangement was the most agreeable of all between us two. Racing in the pro-circuit, if you can believe, was actually somewhat safer than the open-circuit. Sure, there were a few open races, like those of the Pouffa Circuit, which served as a calm training and proving ground for the new podracers, that caused less injuries and fatalities than the courses I found myself enduring. But the vast majority of open-circuit tracks were most horrendous because of the amateur podracers that raced on them.

Don't mistake my words; my colleagues were among the nastiest thugs in the whole of the galaxy. But, since only a handful of beings ever found themselves able to race professionally over a long period of time, I knew most of them really well. I knew all their moves, all their tricks, and, in many more races than I care to count, this knowledge managed to save my life.

I folded my arms across my chest and gave a sidelong glance over to Maecenas, waiting for what was bound to be an amusing retort. To my dismay, however, Dofine actually answered my question before Maecenas had the chance to speak.

"Yes," he said, "we apologize for the confusion. According to the Podracing Promotional Board, Naboo is not eligible for professional circuit status until we complete this season. We are willing to make you a lucrative offer, however, in compensation for our error."

"I'm listening," Maecenas said. He took a step closer to Dofine and prepared to do 'business.' I shrugged and rolled my eyes. Nobody noticed my sarcastic gestures and I was left completely out of the loop, which was perfectly fine by me.

I walked back over to my pod, watching the droids as they finished their examination. I noticed Padmé still hovering near the back of the speeder. She still had that blasted hood up, covering herself entirely … as if the sun's rays would destroy that beautiful skin.

I waved and motioned for her to come stand beside me. Hesitant at first, she slowly did so. I noticed that she barely kept her eyes off Dofine as she walked. Her eyelids narrowed into slits and her lip curled slightly.

The reaction struck me as odd – I never fingered Padmé for an alien-hater, especially after she had worked for the Grans on Malastare. But, then again, maybe that little bout was exactly why she hated aliens. Slavery, I think, does different things to different people. It usually causes animosity between master and servant, but some slaves often took their hated to a new level and despised everyone that even looked like a slaver.

Padmé stood beside me with her arms crossed over her chest and glared at Dofine. If she had a vibroblade in her hand at that moment, I would not have been surprised if she had simply ran up and gutted the lizard. I let out a sharp gasp at the thought. Could this angel be so deadly?

"He's a Neimoidian," I ventured slowly. "He looks quite harmless."

"I know what he is," she hissed. Her lovely voice was filled with cold, bitter hatred. "Do not be deceived by appearances, Anakin; behavior like that will often get you killed."

I gulped and nodded. It felt like a dark hand had grabbed my heart and squeezed all the blood out of my veins when she said those words. A harsh silence then followed, broken only the sounds of Maecenas and Dofine bartering.

"Would you mind helping me with my pod?" I finally asked when I realized that I would need to be ready soon. I was afraid that she would hurl another cruel response at me, but, thankfully, she only nodded.

We began to assemble the pod by attaching the turbine engines to the pod via the control cables. I explained to her of each of the various components worked in detail. She listened quietly, probably more out of politeness than interest, but I didn't mind.

I hoped that she would be around during this season's races. Threepio was handy and willing, but he lacked both the programming and the dexterity of movement to make a good pit mechanic. I had nearly begged Maecenas for an assistant or an astromech droid. He, of course, refused, saying that it was a waste of credits.

Padmé was a quick study. As soon as I showed her how the left cable was wired into the turbine, she was able to do the same with the right. I praised her ability, and she favored me with a small smile.

"When I was younger," she said, "my grandmother insisted that I learn basic mechanics. My … interests … didn't lie along that path, but I agreed to study it anyway. I haven't regretted it since; it has come in handy many times."

The fact that she had revealed something about her personal life before Malastare was not lost on me. It was the first time she had done so. I paused for a moment, planning my response. I didn't want to offend her again, but the desire to know more about her past drove me forward.

"Your grandmother sounds like a remarkable woman," I noted, looking up from my cables to see her reaction.

Her face was clouded over in a fog of memories; some were pleasant, others not so much so. She seemed sad, lonely, tired. A swarm of emotions crossed her unfocused eyes, and she stared off into the distance. After a few moments, she came back to reality and sighed.

"She was," she whispered sadly. "She is dead now."

"I'm sorry," I blurted out awkwardly. Was my only purpose to cause her pain?

"Don't be," Padmé said, a small smile crept over her face. "She lived a good life and died peacefully when her time came."

We worked in a comfortable silence for some time. I had so many questions to ask, but feared that she would have another crying spell if I spoke. She seemed perfectly content with not speaking, so I let her be.

"Watch out for these energy binders," I told her when we managed to line up the turbines. "If you get your hand caught in one, you'd be numb for hours. It isn't fun." I shook my head and shuddered at the thought.

"Why, Anakin, it sounds like you are speaking from experience," Padmé said, noticing my reaction.

I felt my cheeks flush from embarrassment, and I bit my lip. She giggled.

"Where?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um," I stuttered. I looked around quickly and noticed Maecenas and Dofine walking towards us. "Looks like it's time to get going."

I finished the connections for the binders, and the pink beams flashed to life. Padmé looked at me with playful sternness.

"You didn't answer by question," she reminded me. Her gaze was impenetrable.

"Some other time, sweetheart," I smiled, feeling particularly roguish. Her jaw dropped slightly at my endearment. I winked.

I always was a bit more playful right before I was about to race, even if it was only a practice run. I hopped into the pod as Maecenas and Dofine came up to me.

"Race along the markers," Dofine told me. "Don't hit the markers. Don't go off course. We will not time you. This is not a race."

"Great information, thanks," I said sarcastically and put on my helmet. I wondered what sort of deal Maecenas and the Neimoidian had made as I fired up the engines.

I watched as Maecenas grabbed Padmé and led her away from the wind generated by the howling turbines. She was struggling to keep her hood up. I hoped that it would fall down to her shoulders so that I could see those brown locks flying in the air recklessly. Unfortunately, Padmé kept her grip.

As soon as everyone was clear of my pod, I hit the accelerator and flew off towards the orange markers.

Even though I had been forced to race for the majority of my life, I still felt the rush of freedom as I piloted my pod. I was alone and I was in control of something. It was the only time when my life was truly my own. If I made a mistake, it was my own. If I won, then it was my victory. Perhaps Maecenas got the credits, but I was the one at the center of the winners' circle.

Above all, though, a surreal, peaceful feeling gripped me as I raced. It held me and made me one with the whole of the universe. I could sense everything around me as if it was a part of my own body. I knew the life within the tree I had just passed and that a small reptile was sunbathing on a rock to my left. The life greeted me and embraced me with so much love that it was often overwhelming.

I breathed the sensation in and let it fill the very core of my being. I was happy. So, now do you still wish to ask why I let Maecenas force me to race? I think you have your answer.

The practice run was over far too soon for my tastes. I rounded the last row of markers and saw the two familiar speeders parked off the side. I slowed, and looked over at Dofine, hoping he would wave the signal for another lap. No such luck.

The pod decelerated to a stop, and I sat in the cockpit for a few minutes, waiting for my mind to return to my body.

My inner peace dwindled as I heard Maecenas' voice above the whine of the dying turbines.

"That is fine," Dofine told me when the engines finally went silent. "You are cleared to race tomorrow. Fifth heat, garage two, port eight."

I nodded as Maecenas wrote the train of numbers down into his datapad. Having nothing more to say, the Neimoidian left without even the simplest farewell.

His speeder flew off as Padmé and I deconstructed the pod and wound up the cables in silence. Maecenas wordlessly entered information into his datapad as we worked.

The trip back to the inn was no more talkative. We each contemplated our of tasks – Padmé and I stared out the window or at our feet and Maecenas whispered into his comlink or read his datapad. The odd silence was almost eerie.

We allowed the hauling droids to carry the pod to a nearby port for safekeeping, and went back to our rooms.

I sat down my podracing equipment neatly in the corner of the main room. Padmé walked past me towards the back bedroom that we shared, while Maecenas went into his own room.

I rubbed my head, grateful to be back in a place where I could finally nurse my hangover. I wanted to sleep desperately, even if it was on a messy pile of clothes. Maecenas had other plans, however.

He returned to the main room as I was about to leave, carrying a sinleather whip. The breath was held in my lungs as I beheld the thing; it was his favorite and had little, jagged beads of metal tied to the knots at the tip. The beads were like thorns when they struck flesh, but torn skin far beyond anything that a plant could produce.

I slowly took off my shirt, wanting to spare every free moment I could, and braced myself for the pain. I stood near the wall, placing both hands on it for support. I closed my eyes.

"What are you doing?" Padmé said. Her voice was like a dream floating through my head.

I heard Maecenas unfolding the whip; the beads clanged against the stone floor.

"Stand back, girlie," he told her, his anger raising.

"No, please, you can't!" Padmé gasped as if she finally realized what was happening. Her voice was full of fear, and I could almost see the tears forming in her eyes. "Please!"

The harsh feeling of regret washed over me as Maecenas struck the first blow. The pain was unbearable, but I would not scream. I never scream. Why had I bought Padmé into this life? No Gran's fist could ever equal that whip. I was a fool. A selfish fool.

The second strike hit and my knees buckled. There was a scream, but it wasn't my own. Padmé was crying out, begging for mercy. It vaguely pleased my pain-filled mind that she cared.

There was a third and perhaps a fourth. I lost count several minutes before I passed out.


	15. Waking Up

**Author's notes: **Thanks for all the reviews, guys, and sorry for the long wait. This fic now has a beta reader once more, so yay!

* * *

**Part Fifteen (7/30/04)**

"Anakin?"   
  
The sound of her voice was demanding but delicate, filled with both urgency and fear. It was enough to wake me up completely.   
  
My spine stiffened at the first on-shot of pain, and I could feel my jaw clench and my teeth grind together. I buried my face into the softness that I could only assume was a pillow and tried not to whimper out loud.   
  
"Try not to move too much," Padmé told me, running her hand along my forearm in a gesture of comfort. "The bacta is still working. Give it time."   
  
I nodded into the pillow, hoping that she could understand the movement. My entire body, not just my back, felt like it was on fire, probably because of the bacta. For a miracle, cure-all slimy liquid, that stuff sure did sting. I had to endure more bacta treatments than most sentients, I believe, since Maecenas had such fond sentiments of his whip. I really hated that whip.   
  
I tried to fall back asleep, so the bacta could work faster, but the ache wouldn't let my thoughts become dull. I sighed, or groaned rather, and replayed a nice little fantasy in my head. It was the one where I was able to grab the whip and wrap it completely around Maecenas' neck. I would then yank and pull until all the air and life were drained from his body and he fell lifelessly before my feet. He wouldn't even have time to beg me for mercy – although I would be able to see that he was thinking it.   
  
The pleasantness of this daydream calmed the throbbing in my back, if only for a few moments. My anger seemed to give my limbs a new will to move, and I was beginning to feel better. Perhaps it was only the bacta working, but the rage building up inside me was still very empowering.   
  
I sat up, ignoring the pain that shot through my bones and straight into my flesh. My head was threatening to start pounding worse than it did the day before, and I cringed involuntarily.   
  
"I don't think you should be moving yet," Padmé reminded me gently. Her tone was caring but firm, and I had to smile despite the pain. She would have made a good medic, or, perhaps, even a mother.   
  
"I'm fine," I said more softly than I had. A part of me wanted to lash out at her in anger, but her voice was so soothing. Slowly, as I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my temples with my thumbs, the hate seemed to wash away from me.   
  
I glanced around the room. It was the same confining hotel room I had stalked out of defiantly the day before, but my pile of clothes had been folded and stacked neatly in the corner. I grimaced, realizing that it must have been Padmé who used her slave-inherent maid skills to clean up after my mess.   
  
"I'm sorry." I sighed, pointing to the pile. I had meant to sleep on it, so that she could take the bed. Idly I wondered where she managed to rest last night and hoped that she didn't stay up the whole time on my account.   
  
"For what?" Padmé asked. "For being beaten to unconsciousness by that … that …" Her normally sweet voice was full of bitter hatred as she attempted to find some curse of a name for Maecenas. Her words and thoughts failed her, however, and she was unable to think of anything appropriate. Her head shot down in defeat, and she stared at her hands.   
  
"Oh," I said blankly, not really sure how to answer her outburst. I agreed with her, but knew it was pointless to dive into a rant right at the moment, especially when Maecenas was bound to come barreling through the door soon. "I dunno, Padmé," I continued, remembering my night with Saché, "I think this time I might have deserved it."   
  
"No!" Padmé yelled, "no one ever deserves that. Ever!" She stood up from her spot on the side of the bed and pointed an accusing figure at me. "You best remember that, Anakin."   
  
I nodded noncommittally and shrugged my shoulders. I wondered, not for the last time, how Padmé survived slavery if my flamboyant attitude nearly got me sent to Kessel more times than I can count.   
  
I asked her the time, and was pleased that to find out that it was not even noon yet. There was still good few hours before the race, at least, and that was definitely a good thing. I got up, to Padm's surprise, and began to get dressed.   
  
"Are you going somewhere?" she questioned, her wide eyes hinting at her confusion.   
  
"Yeah," I said, slipping on my boots. "Wanna come?"   
  
"Where?"   
  
"The racing track."   
  
Her mouth hung open and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"   
  
I smirked and grabbed her hand, gently leading her out of the bedroom. She hesitated slightly, but decided to follow silently.   
  
As we passed through the main room, Maecenas looked up from his datapad. His face was still a mask of irritation, and I felt my jaw lock in anger. Padm's grip tightened around my hand as Maecenas and I gave each other death glares.   
  
"Well," Maecenas said, breaking up our little staring contest, "fabulous to see that you've finally managed to get your lazy bantha hide out of bed this morning." His voice was filled with mocking sarcasm, as if what he had done to me yesterday was no more than a slap on the wrist.   
  
It took all my will power not to jump across the room and personally wipe the sadistic grin off his face. Padm's hand was nearly crushing my knuckles at this point, making me realize that her anger was probably as fierce as mine.   
  
"One of the heats has already been run, right?" I asked in an attempt to control my baser instincts. Maecenas was also calmer when discussing sheer business.   
  
"Yeah," he answered bluntly.   
  
"I'll go get some info then."   
  
"Good. You do that." Maecenas' voice lacked any sort of enthusiasm whatsoever, but apathy was always better than the alternative.   
  
"Limit?"   
  
"Two hundred."   
  
I nodded and made my way out of the suite without delay. I was surprised that he let Padmé stay with me, but what could the "bachelor extraordinaire" possibly do in the middle of the day?   
  
I wasn't sure which direction the racing arena was, but a few helpful Naboo politely told me that it was northwards, on the boarder between the human and Neimoidian districts of Theed. It wasn't the shortest walk on the planet, but Maecenas didn't provide us with a speeder. It was a completely beautiful, sunny day, though, and I could find no reason to complain.   
  
Padmé was her usual non-talkative, cloak-shrouded self. I didn't have the heart to irritate her with questions or other forms of idle conversation. The sun shining in my face, the growing distance between Maecenas and myself, and the sweet smell of Padm's light lotion were enough to keep me content.   
  
We heard the shouts and screams echoing from the main gates of the racing arena as we approached. Excitement, greed, pleasure, and, yes, even fear and hatred lingered in the air more like molecules than emotions, making it thick and almost hard to breathe.   
  
I paused about a hundred meters or so before the arena's entrance and folded my arms across my chest, listening for the familiar whine of the replusor engines. Padmé walked a few paces ahead of me and then came to a sudden stop when she realized I was no longer moving. She turned to face me with curious eyes while I looked over the district my mind plotting.   
  
I watched service droids for a moment, mentally tracing each unit's various paths, until I noticed a common pattern amongst the pit droids. I decided to follow one of the little guys and it led me, expectedly, to the pod hangar entrance.   
  
I marched up to the open bay doors, assuming that I would be granted instant access because of my status. A thin, beige droid stopped my movement, however, with a raised hand. It held within its grip a large, short-range blaster rifle – a weapon that I would consider slightly too powerful for a populated public spectacle. The blaster fit with this droid, however, and added to its distinctly ominous appearance. I had seen battle droids on the holonet, but had never faced one in person before now. I could quickly guess that they were as horrific as the stories said.   
  
"Clearance access card, please," the droid demanded harshly.   
  
I nodded and fumbled through my belongings until my sweaty fingers gripped my multipass chip. Once I handed the chip over, the battle droid inserted into a nearby terminal. The terminal blinked, informing the droid of my status.   
  
"Access denied," the droid barked to my surprise. It turned and hefted that menacing blaster towards my abdomen.   
  
"Oh," was all I managed to say. I was hoping he would at least hand the chip back to me, but I wasn't about to ask for it, or why I had been denied, for that matter.   
  
"You are scheduled for the night," it told me. "You will be granted access then and only then." Its free hand stretched out to give me back my chip. I took it quickly.   
  
"Uh, sure thing," I said while slowly backing away.   
  
Padmé and I left the bay entrance at an accelerated pace.   
  
"Well, that was, uh, interesting," I ventured once we were out of that thing's firing range. "What sort of creature would station a battle droid in the middle of a busy arena?" The thought of a fully armed machine capable of wiping out dozens of sentients without so much as a flick of a power switch was disturbing – especially with all the young children that were running around . What if one of them happened to run into the hangar bay while playing? What would that guard do then?   
  
"The Neimoidians aren't known for their tact," Padmé said. Her voice was cold, seething with malice, and her words came out in an angry hiss. "Only cheap killing and conquering." Her hand swept over the path we currently were treading. "Do not think that they would care for the lives of those children."   
  
She had probably seen me staring at the innocent brother and sister who dashed around our legs as we passed.   
  
"They think," Padmé continued, "that all these beings are expendable like machines. They suppose that, since they spared these people's lives during war once, they can take those same lives away if they choose. Without even a blink of their nasty little eyes!"   
  
I stopped walking and stared at her, my mouth agape. She was nearly yelling now and had already caused the siblings to back away from us and continue their game on the other side of the walkway. She paused in step with me as I watched her clench and unclench her fists several times before I spoke.   
  
"You sound like you know them," I observed hesitatingly. From what I had seen of Padm's personality so far, it seemed to me that she didn't get worked up without a reason. She wasn't going to make it easy for me to find out about her past, so I opted for a more direct interrogation.   
  
She must have realized my insightfulness, however, because she bit her lip slightly and didn't respond to my question.   
  
"They don't seem like the mighty 'rapper of worlds' sort of people," I commented loosely, waiting for a rise from her. "They're a little on the lazy and stupid side if you ask me."   
  
"I didn't," she hissed bitterly.   
  
I shrugged nonchalantly, trying not to let Padmé know how eager I was for an honest answer. What did she really know about the Neimoidians? Was her home world devastated like Naboo?   
  
"Well, I figured I'd find one of these eventually," I said instead, burying my questions into the back of my head. I pointed to a noisy tavern, which was oddly close to the racing arena. It reeked of alcohol and other types of smelly contraband, and the many faces that were pouring in and out of the front doors looked annoyingly familiar.   
  
I elbowed my way through the lingering crowds. Some patrons let me pass willingly, recognizing me as _the_ Anakin Skywalker, while others purposefully got in my way in spite. I ducked and weaved until I made it through the mass and near the back booths.   
  
"By the Force, Anakin," Padmé said from close behind me, "have you ever had a day where you're not in a cantina?"   
  
I smirked. "Good question."   
  
She sighed as I saw her form come up next to mine. One look at her eyes and I could tell that she was disappointed in my behavior. That made me feel guilty.   
  
Odd. Since when have I felt responsible for my actions to another being? I don't think I ever have. I shrugged and thought it best to justify myself.   
  
"We're not here to drink," I told her. "It's too early in the day for that anyway." She rolled her eyes at the comment.   
  
"Well, then, why are we here?"   
  
"Business."   
  
I scanned the room, ignoring Padm's questioning look. My eyes spotted and then focused on a downtrodden Toong sitting at a lone table in the far corner. The fat little worm creature looked fairly depressed, and, if the slope of his antennae was any indication, was possibly drunk.   
  
"Ben," I said to him as I helped myself to a seat next to him. [Rough day?] I asked, changing my language into Huttesse for his benefit.   
  
Ben Quadinaros looked up from his drink and gave me a harsh stare. The movement of his antennae begged me to leave. I smirked and indicted to Padmé to sit down next to me.   
  
[Go away, Skywalker,] Ben told me, [I don't need to be laughed at any more today.] The poor Toong was easily the worst racer in the whole of pod racing. For him, it was a miracle that he even finished a race. Some days he couldn't even get that pod of his past the start line.   
  
Yes, he was a laughing-stock. He had applied for entrance into the pro-circuit several times, as the jokes say, but was always denied. I only saw him during open races, like the Boonta Eve Classic on Tatooine.   
  
[I'm not here to mock you, Ben,] I said, [there are plenty of racers who could do it far better than me.] I smirked again and pulled a credit purse. [I'm here to bribe you.]   
  
The Toong's antennae perked up in interest.   
  
[You've already raced the first heat,] I continued, [tell me about the track.] I reached into the purse and pulled out a fifty-credit chip.   
  
[Why should I help you, Skywalker?] he asked. There was a hint of amusement in his voice.   
  
[Well,] I sighed sarcastically, [I wasn't sure the credits you won from your victory on the track would be enough. I'll just go then if you're not interested.] I positioned my body to rise, but his stubby hand stopped me.   
  
[How do you know I even finished?] he asked, embarrassment filling his features.   
  
[They,] I said, pointing to the crowd of other racers, [would have kicked you out otherwise, methinks.] He sighed and nodded, taking another sip of his drink.   
  
[The track starts off pretty wide,] he began, taking the chip out of my hand, [but it narrows about thirty kilometers out of the gate. Only one or two podracers can fit side-by-side. Then, about fifteen kilometers later, there is a sharp bank right. About thirty degrees, followed by an equal turn left …]   
  
I listened as he described the track. It seemed pretty routine to me, or even slightly boring. Well, from what I had seen so far, the Neimoidians seemed like a boring race. Why would they have the nerve to design a wizard track?   
  
[… and then you come to an open plain that lasts for about twenty-five kilometers.] Ben stopped talking and stared at his empty glass. [I think I shall have another, Skywalker.]   
  
[Is that the last part of the track?] I asked, ignoring his drink request for the moment.   
  
[No,] he said brightly, [and I think I shall have another credit-chip as well.]   
  
I sighed and hailed a nearby waiter for another drink. Ben only started speaking again after I handed over another fifty credits.   
  
[There is beach sand,] he finally said, [and it gets everywhere – in your helmet, in your clothes, in the pod's gears. Then there is water.]   
  
Oh, fantastic. I really despised water tracks. To tell you the truth, growing up on Tatooine left much to be desired as far as swimming lessons go, and Maecenas didn't bother to teach me anything about treading through water.   
  
I had raced on water before. The replusors worked fine and could keep the pod nearly a full meter above the water's surface. The trick was to not crash with another pod or otherwise fall out of the cockpit of the racer.   
  
[The water goes on for some time,] Ben told me. [There are orange markers that direct the path. It is fairly wide.] I took a sigh of relief at that – at least the Neimoidians weren't actively trying to get us all drowned. [There is another beach, then the finish line.]   
  
He gulped down the last of the newly brought drink and favored me with a smile.   
  
[I would laugh if you fell in,] he laughed. [There are many jokes around here that the desert-boy cannot swim. It would be amusing to see if that is true.]   
  
[Well,] I said, rising off my chair and dropping a few credits for his drinks on the table, [pity you'll have to watch it from the sidelines, Ben, seeing as how you couldn't make it through the first heat and all.]   
  
He granted loudly as I turned to leave. A confused Padmé followed in my wake.   
  
"Did you just ask him for a map of the course?" she asked suspiciously as we walked outside.   
  
"Yep."   
  
"Isn't that cheating?"   
  
"Nah," I smiled roguishly. "How else would Ben afford all those drinks? Or hell, the repairs for that racer of his?"   
  
She shook her head softly, and I knew she was disappointed in me. The feeling of rejection hurt so much that it surprised me. I bowed down my head as we walked silently towards the inn.


	16. Before The Race

**Part Sixteen (written 10/13/04; posted 3/11/05)**

Upon our return to the inn, I was welcomed back with a slight surprise: moving droids were packing our belongings in the main room. Padmé shrugged at this development, and her face betrayed no sense of astonishment. 

"Maecenas must have cut a deal with that Neimoidian," she told me as we dodged past the droids and into our room. "We're moving to some uptown apartment." She waved her hand dismissively and began gathering up her belongings.

"How do you know?" Maecenas didn't mention anything about leaving the inn when I left for the arena this morning or on the way back from the practice run – not that there were many words exchanged during that little trip. 

"He told me the other night," she said, "while you were out." I listened for any hint of irritation in her voice in response to what I did that night, but I found none. Why should I? She didn't know what I had done.

It suddenly hit me then that I actually wanted her irritation and her resentment.

Because I had acted poorly. I had dragged her into Maecenas' clutches; I had drunk the majority of my adolescence away; I had slept with every girl I could, not caring about their feelings or mine; and I deserved this life. I deserved it because I was born to be a horrible person. 

I sighed back a sob and, aware that Padmé was watching my sudden turn of behavior curiously, I focused on my neatly folded clothes pile. It occurred to me almost as an afterthought that this move was the key reason she had folded them yesterday. I grabbed a satchel from the bedpost and packed my clothes away gently, leaving them folded and unwrinkled. Padmé had somehow made me want to keep my clothes nice.

Silence surrounded us for some time, but I really couldn't tell if I was comfortable or not. I had the urge to speak, the desire, really, to tell her that she made me want to have clean clothes, but I could only imagine how bizarre that would sound.

"I enjoyed this place," I started quietly. "Maecenas always drags me to this places that feel more like a military institutions than a dwelling. It was nice to stay here; it was very … real."

Padmé nodded and looked at me, her eyes hinting that she might have some sort of response. My words hung in the air for a few moments as she sat down and smoothed the wrinkles from one of her simple servant dresses. She put the newly arranged dress in her own bag and chewed on her lip slightly.

"Why did you cheat, Anakin?" she finally asked me. Her voice was deadly serious and she stared at me judgmentally.

My brow wrinkled as I beheld her. The old me probably would have simply responded with something like "oh, and who died and made you queen, Highness?" But now I was lost on what to say … I was lost on what to feel, even. I wanted her to be pleased with me.

"It wasn't cheating, really. At least not in the way you're thinking." iOh, good answer, genius. /i I run my hand over my hair nervously, trying to think of a way to quantify that statement. "Everyone does it. I know that's no excuse, but on all the other podracing planets – pro or not – we have the option beforehand to run through the track. Um, have you ever seen a podrace?"

She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest in slightly annoyed expectation.

"Well," I breathed, thinking of the best way to explain the world of racing without insulting Padmé's intelligence, "I wasn't going the top speed on the practice run. Some pods – my pod – can get up to two hundred kilometers. You gotta go that fast to win and, if you happen upon a rock crevasse, it's, well, boom." I made a light slap sound by clapping my hands together to emphasize my point.

"I see," Padmé dignifiedly said. She loosened her arms and looked down, avoiding my gaze. "Could that … could racing pods kill you?" Her voice seemed slightly distraught as if she had just put two and two together.

"Yeah," I told her honestly, my own voice holding a hint of despondency. "But, hey, not me," I added with humor. "I'm the best there is."

Her head shot back up just in time for me to wink at her. I hoped my playful expression was believable, but, truth be told, I was constantly aware that the track could one day claim my life.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," Padmé said sincerely. She leaned forward slightly, her unfolded dress momentarily forgotten. "I must admit when I first met you, I was so confused. You were dressed so well at that party, like you belonged with those people, and then to see what Maecenas makes you do. What Maecenas does to you. It's horrendous."

"I'm sure you've seen worse."

"No," her tone was firm, almost angry, "physical manipulation, perhaps, but never mental. Not the way Maecenas insists on controlling you. You handle it so well." 

My brow wrinkled as I attempted to process her words. It was a compliment in light of the dark situation that was my life, and something that I was not used to. I sighed with dejection, pondering what to say in reply. She was wrong, of course.

"I don't really," I finally declared. "You were right. I spend nearly every free moment in a cantina, drinking myself into a coma. It like I just want to forget everything – Maecenas, racing, slavery, everything. I hate it. I hate everything. I hate my life. That's not 'handling it,' Padmé, that's ignoring it."

The look of pity on her face was heart wrenching, and the urge to runaway again and retreat back to Saché's pub – without her there, of course – hit me, but I knew that would only prove my point. Instead, I stood there blankly and felt tears well up in my eyes.

I never spoke like this, not even to my mother. It was too much for me ever to bring to the surface of my thoughts, too much to deal with. My family was never to be burdened with my own sour fate, even though I was sure that they were aware of it. That compassionate gaze often appeared on the features of Owen and Cliegg when I would greet them in Mos Eisley with a black and blue face. To be fair, it appeared right after fierce looks of brutal hatred were aimed at Maecenas, who would simply smirk and walk away. My mom's eyes, however, were always filled with bitter sorrow and pain in my presence. Sometimes I dreaded going home, if only because it seemed to make her so sad. 

Padmé rose and came towards me, snapping me out of my trance. In an unexpected gesture, she wrapped her arms around my torso in a gentle hug. I accepted her embrace, only hoping to enjoy the closeness for a moment. The smell of her hair was intoxicating and I could barely resist burying my face in its chocolate waves. 

"I don't think you're handling it badly, Anakin," she told me, her voice slight muffled by the folds of my shirt. "Anyone in your place would do the same, I think, if they had the opportunity."

"But I don't want …" I started, feeling my heart beating rapidly, "Padmé, I don't want to be like that anymore. I … you … Padmé, you make me care." 

She pulled away, but it wasn't the harsh jerk I was anticipating. There was an arm's length between us before she looked up into my face and let go off my waist. Fear crawled through me, knowing that she could possibly reject my feelings, but her features remained soft and kind.

I could have wondered if I had spoken too soon or said the wrong thing, but why bother? It was too late now.

"I'm glad, Anakin," she smiled. "I never had many friends as a slave, but I do consider you one. I'll be here to help you if you need it."

I breathed out a sigh of relief and returned her grin. "Thank you."

Friendship was a start.

The new apartment was sterile beyond all expectation – gray walls and floors offered little contrast with the black furniture. The air even smelled boring, recycled, and stale. Maecenas absolutely loved it.

It was most certainly bigger than the old place, with a spacious seating area that lead almost elegantly into a monotonously lit hallway that contained a series of sleeping quarters. The bay window, which took up a whole wall running along the back dinning area, was almost an old sight to behold because the colors of the sky – blue mixed with the softest hint of pink – seemed to be fighting a loosing battle against the dreary florescent lighting design.

I grunted, obviously not as keen on my surroundings as Meacenas was, and made haste to the back bedroom. I checked to make sure it was the smallest before hefting my bag on to the pre-made sleeping couch. From the room next to mine, I heard Padmé do the same.

At least I would be able to bring Threepio out of storage now that there was a bit more space. One of these rooms had also been converted into an office, so I wouldn't have to walk directly past Maecenas' brooding form when I left the apartment.

Still aware of how nicely Padmé arranged my clothes, I unpacked them with equal consideration.

Afterwards, I sat on the bed, bouncing slightly like a little boy to test its softness. I sighed, breathing in a whiff of tasteless air. I was content, strange as it was. Declared friendship with Padmé was actually making me happy. I knew that such a thing was possible the moment that I had won her, but was unsure if it would ever truly occur. And who knew where such a friendship could lead?

_Okay, Anakin, don't get ahead of yourself._

I shook my head, still amazed at how quickly my brain could reach a deduction of that sort, and left the room.

I found Padmé and Maecenas standing together in the main living area when I entered. I paused, but neither seemed to notice that I was there. To my surprise, Maecenas glided his finger along her forearm. She didn't flitch as I thought she might, but only nodded obediently and looked away, her head hanging lower in shame.

She walked past me, slightly brushing my chest with her shoulder, and her eyes failed to meet mine.

My brow wrinkled in confusion and frustration. What had Maecenas said to her? Why had he touched her like that?

I swallowed harshly, wondering if my worst fears regarding Maecenas' more flirtatious side were starting to come true. He was my inferior when it came to mastery of seduction, but that hardly meant he didn't know how to handle himself.

Women who weren't attracted to my youth were often drawn to my patron's power, and he enticed them with his prestige on a regular basis. He never had an unwilling woman as long as I had known him, but, then again, he had never owned a female slave before.

I gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes, watching the greasy man suspiciously. He glanced up at me, his brow raised in a questing stare, as if he was daring me to comment on his actions.

"Get the pod ready, Skywalker," he finally spoke after minutes of uncomfortable silence, "and power up that droid of yours." I nodded submissively, not wanting to end up with my back against the business end of that whip again and returned to the back room to get my racing gear.

A helmet, goggles, gloves – I was already wearing a flight suit – and I was ready to go.

I stalked down the hall, but found myself stopping at Padmé's door. She was sitting on her own sleep couch, blankly looking at the wall in front of her. She glanced at me as I passed, and her face was a mask of dejection and sorrow.

"You all right?" I asked softly, knowing that she wasn't but feeling the need to at least attempt to talk to her about it.

She smiled, even if it was a morose one, and favored me with a tiny nod. I waited a few minutes more, but when it became clear that she wasn't inclined to speak, I decided to suggest an idea that had stuck me earlier in the day.

"Padmé, ah, podracers, well, we have these flags," I began, "and people march out on the track waving them – one for each racer, like our own banners – kinda like a miniature parade before the race. Threepio always carries my flag, but the others usually have a member of their species, and so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind maybe carrying mine for me." I felt nervous all of a sudden, fearing that she would cruelly reject my offer.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," she sighed, her gaze retreating from mine, "but Maecenas told me to stay here."

My heart sank. I nodded once briefly and backed out of the doorway, not able to address her again. It was disappointing, to be sure, but it wasn't her fault – she was only obeying that hutt-slime.

I did not look at Maecenas when I reemerged from the back hall, but simply continued on my way out of the apartment instead. I had things to do and I doubted I would be able to keep down my temper if I were to make eye contact with my master.

The track was a noisy mess – could I expect any less? – and the hordes of humans and Neimoidians filling the stands created a diverse wave of color in the corners of my eyes as I assembled my racer.

My fellow competitors made their greetings and boasts to each other – not close enough to be friends, but knowing one another well enough to make idle chatter as readied their pods.

Of course, everybody kept an eye on his own engines and exhaust, waiting for another to attempt sabotage. Cheating was common – all too common – and I had been a victim of it more than I would have liked to admit, since I had no full time guard for my vessel. I never sabotaged any one else's pod, for my part, but I would never put such a thing past Maecenas. I didn't ask, and neither did he bother to say.

We all paused has the announcer read our names over the loud speaker. The disembodied voice was speaking basic and only basic without a Huttese translation. The crowd's reaction to the long list of alien names, some difficult to pronounce with the human tongue was lukewarm at best, as if they had never heard of these famous racers.

"Number twenty-five, Anakin Skywalker," came my familiar call. "Homeworld: Tatooine. Race: human."

The audience suddenly erupted into a thunderous roar. I looked up, confused, as Threepio walked by with my blue and white banner flying soundly at his side. I squinted and glared at the thong of humans screaming, shielding my vision against the last rays of sunset with the flat of my hand.

They were cheering for me, not because of my reputation, and certainly not because my homeworld – even though the two planets were close geographically – but for my race. I was human as they were human. 

I jumped upon my pod to give them a better view – showing that I was truly as the announcer had said – and waved appreciatively. The crowd continued to clap, shout, scream, and bang their hands against the durasteel stands. I smiled and bowed and ate up the attention more than I deserved to.

The Naboo's behavior didn't surprise me; many of them had probably spent the entirety of the day watching unfamiliar aliens skirt across the finish line. It must have been boring to watch when you had no one that you could relate to on the track.

I could be the hero if only for a moment. It was as close as I was ever going to get to it, anyway. And if my racing and, hopefully, winning could take the pain the Naboo suffered by losing national identity and political freedom away for ten minutes, who would possibly want to complain?

Well, besides the Neimoidians.

One such creature came up to me and demanded that I step off the pod and return to my preparations. I agreed, but made sure that the brown lizard could clearly see my self-satisfied smirk before he turned and walked away.

The cheering died down slowly when the audience could no longer distinguish my form from those around me. I strapped into my seat after one last check of the turbines and waited for the signal to ignite the repulsors.

"Gentlebeings of Naboo," the announcer declared solemnly, "Viceroy Nute Gunray thanks you again for your continued participation in the first annual Naboo podracing series."

The audience's reaction was mixed this time around – some booed and hissed, while others clapped politely. It made for a monotonous hum, where no one noise reigned supreme over another. I felt my head beginning to ache and I contemplated putting my helmet on early to block out some of the sounds.

"I have a special treat, Gentlebeings," the voice boomed above the din of the spectators, "to officially open the penultimate race of these semi-finals, I present Count Dooku of Serenno."

There was no booing this time around, only a wave of disillusioned but customary applause. I could feel the crowd's confusion matching my own as I turned and propped myself up slightly to catch a glimpse of this _treat_.

My eyes were drawn to a platform jetting pompously out of the middle of the stands. Brightly dressed Neimoidians littered this dais, but a lone man dressed completely in black sat to the left of the center throne. He rose at the announcement, proving that he was Count Dooku.

I squinted in an attempt to get a better view of him; he was old, if his gray and white hair was any indication, but I couldn't tell much more than that.

"Greetings sentients," he said in a rich accent after a sound amplifier was set into his right hand, "thank you for such a kind welcome to your beautiful planet." – As if the Naboo were as enthusiastic about his existence as they were about mine – "I would like to begin by extending my hands to you in camaraderie. Your Viceroy and I have finally signed the last of the negotiation treaties just this evening. I am proud to be the first to welcome your world as a full-fledged member of Confederacy of Independent Systems."

He paused his speech at a poor time because the entire human population of the arena began to jeer and hiss even loader than they had when the Neimoidian's name was called. Instead of silencing after a few minutes later, the angry shouting continued to escalate until the clamor was nearly unbearable.

I slid back down into my pod, catching the eye of the racer sitting next to me. His lekku motioned a questioning gesture and I shrugged, unable to translate what was truly going on with these people.

It was something political, something about the number of systems threatening to secede from the Republic. I had heard second hand that there were battles between these separatists and the Republic's army, the former using battle droids and the latter clones.

An army of clones defied the imagination – soldiers that looked alike, fought alike, and were, indeed, the exact same person. They were engineered to be perfect warriors and manufactured in the thousands. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

Dooku was still trying to calm the crowd, but the humans were having none of it. Various objects flew around the stands, most aimed for that center podium, but a few managed to roll out onto the track and past our pods.

My eyebrow raised in amusement as a half-eaten piece of fruit bounced against one of my replusor engines and was promptly fried to a burnt crisp upon landing in the energy binders.

It took several more minutes for a reasonable quiet to settle over the arena after Dooku had given up and sat back down. I watched as he spoke to the Neimoidian on his left, angrily gesturing towards the general direction of the audience.

"Racers," the announcer said, taking over Dooku's honorary task, "start your engines."

I put on my helmet, strapping it down tightly, and did as I was told. The comforting, familiar hum of the turbines drowned out the noise created by the spectators and I felt myself begin to relax.

I stretched out, feeling around my pod with my senses, connecting with my engines, my controls, the track, the audience, and the whole of this world. I settled into my seat.

I was ready.

The gong sounded, triggered by someone out of my sight, and I pushed the throttle.


	17. Sache and Some Random Guy in a 'fresher

**Part Seventeen (7/08/05)**

All too easy. I didn't have much to concern myself with, really, once I shot out onto the track. There were the turns, like Ben said, then the beach and the water – almost short enough to where I could close my eyes and not witness the pod gliding atop the ocean of liquid, but not quite – and, finally, the end.

The end that held me ahead of every other single racer by more than a second.

I let out a yelp of victory, already nearly made deaf by the repulsor engines and the screaming of the crowd, as the turbines died down. I guided the pod loosely into the hangar bay, aware of the fact that, with heats, the winner isn't allowed to take a victory lap. That would come only after winning the finale.

I smirked, already knowing the speed I would cruise at for that said lap.

I paused in my celebration as the pod drew to a mollified stop.

There was sand in my mouth. Gross. I licked my front teeth with my tongue, but was still unable to clean out the granules from the cracks in between. They were smaller, it seemed, than the grains on Tatooine – of which I was most accustomed – and therefore would probably work their way into the narrowest and tiniest spaces in my pod and my bo- well, let's just say certain places I'd prefer not to have sand in. I hate sand.

Is it normal for a desert dweller like myself to hate sand as much as I do? I doubt it. My mom seems perfectly fine with it. So do Owen and Cliegg.

My face hardened in the sudden but familiar realization – I am an odd one.

I sighed, and attempted to focus on more important things, namely if I should swallow the sand or wait for a glass of water to raise it out with.

"Master Anakin," Threepio hailed, walking up to the pod. "May I say that your run was delightful and quite exciting?"

"You already did," I said, amused. The droid was wordy, if no other description could fit him

"Yes," he agreed, only to pause afterwards, apparently calculating exactly how he could have said something merely by asking to say it. He looked rather perplexed and, for a second, I thought he would bust a motivator. "Of course, sir," he concluded, either figuring it out or deciding that such contradictions were a waste of his processing unit.

"Threepio, could you get me something to drink?" I asked as I took off my helmet.

"Oh, yes, Master Anakin!" he obeyed, pleased to have a task that didn't involve language games, and scurried off.

I watched him go, his feet kicking up dust as he walked, and mindlessly unfastened the pod's harness from my chest and lap. There were other racers and their staffs doing much the same sort of tasks, but no one else. No families or wayward spectators or patrons or wealthy businessmen seeking to find the next way to make a credit. No one to greet me after my incredible victory.

I was alone as I jumped out of the pod and, well, it was kind of nice. There was no rabid fans to ward off, no Maecenas to yell at me. I wouldn't have minded, however, to have Padmé there, but this current situation was surely the next best thing.

I took off my goggles and admired the thick layer of dirt that covered each eyepiece, wondering how I even saw through them. I doubted my face and other exposed skin had faired any better, especially after looking down at my coveralls.

Threepio returned with a glass of water, and I was finally able to clean my mouth out, if nothing else. As I drank, a pit team of droids began the process of disassembling my pod into its various components.

"Master Anakin," Threepio said as I watched to make sure those poorly programmed pits wouldn't damage anything.

"Yeah?" I responded half-heartedly.

"The well-mannered Bee-Onejay protocol unit assisting at the refreshment counter informed me that there are clean towels and soap if you would like to use them, sir."

Best thing Threepio had said in a week.

"Great," was all I managed to mutter before heading off in that general direction, my head already filling with lush delusions of lather and lye.

Other racers had the same idea, and the already small table was swarming with pilots. I pushed my away through with arms and elbows – I _was_ the winner here, after all, and a winner's spot was always at the front of the line. No one opposed me.

Save for a dug. He kept his place all the same, right near the table's edge, a cup of water in one foot, a washrag in the other. At first, I thought it was Sebulba come back from retirement to make my life a living hell all over again, but no; this dug was younger, with a coy swagger and rich, brown scales. The slight fear that I had of Sebulba as a child resurfaced, but only for a moment, before I swallowed it down.

"Outta my way," I said in Basic. I only spoke in Huttesse to people I needed something from or feared. This dug was neither. Most of their kind could understand the language anyway, just chose, out of their own ignorance and pride, to pretend not to.

The dug looked at me, spite welling in his dewback-like eyes. I glared back, equally annoyed.

I don't move for _humans_, he spat, waving the cleaning cloth with as much malice as such a thing could be waved. I folded my arms across my chest.

Well, forgive me, _dug_, I began, irritated enough to change tongues. I didn't think your kind bathed. There was a small hum of hoots and boos as the group of racers surrounding us reacted to my comment.

Suck on bantha poodoo, Skywalker! he barked back, clearly offended. I hear that's what your mother raised you on.

My face darkened at his snide jeer. Too bad she's not here to stop me from ripping off your legs, because she would be the only one that could.

I jumped him. Dugs are an extraordinary agile species, as are many that race pods, and can allow their weight to be transferred from feet to hands seamlessly. This resulted in a kick having all the power of an eopie's hindquarter and the accuracy of a human's fist. He aimed for my gut and hit my knee, knocking me off him. My butt now firmly on the ground, I kicked him right back.

Humans are much stronger than dugs, if you were ever curious to know.

He flew back against the table, the contents of which falling around him. A bowl of hot, soapy water landed squarely on his head. Perhaps the other racers and I would have laughed had we all not immediately realized that I just wasted a perfectly good pan of soap.

Keenly frustrated, I took it out on the most obvious target.

"Idiot," I hissed at the dug. "Now there's no more clean water."

"Echuta," he replied and surged towards me, arms and legs thrashing about madly. We collided and rolled, much to the joy of our compatriots. I must have gotten a few good hits and could feel my lip starting to bleed before two battle droids pulled us apart. I went willingly enough.

"Against section code three two seven," one of the droids warned me.

"Bleeding in the sand?" I ventured sarcastically. I wiped my lip off and stood, shaking the dust off my coveralls.

"Combative behavior," the droid corrected stupidly.

"Right," I grumbled and favored the still floored dug with a harsh stare. "Can I have some more water?"

"Anakin! Anakin!" she called out to me as I left the racers' pit. I glanced around at the sound of my name, not immediately recognizing the voice but noting it was familiar nonetheless.

I suppressed a grimace when Saché made her way through the crowd of waiting spectators. I think a small part of me was hoping that it was going to be Padmé, and I was slightly crushed. I remembered as she crossed the last few meters to me that I had invited her to come down to the pit and see me after the race.

Great.

"I tried to get in, but the droids weren't letting anyone through," she explained, breathless from wading through the mass of people. "The race was very exciting; you were incredible!" She grabbed my arm possessively, pulling herself to me in that way that Blondie did on Malastare. Despite the fact that I was clean and changed into easy fitting street clothes, I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Yeah, those droids are a nasty bunch," I agreed, trying to ignore the fact that my throat had gone completely dry.

"Yes," she admitted, the smallest hint of sadness sprinkled in her otherwise jovial tone. She rushed to change topics. "Why don't you let me buy you a drink? To celebrate your victory."

I blinked, at a loss for what to say. While I hadn't exactly committed to staying sober, either to myself mentally or out loud to Padmé, I didn't want to drink. My stomach rolled at the thought of it, and at the thought of experiencing another hangover as bad as this morning's. And there was a little flip in the mix, too, for Padmé's reaction to said hangover. If I suddenly turned green then, Saché didn't notice it.

"How about this," I said as we walked arm and arm. "I buy, you drink. I've had a bit too much this week already."

To my surprise, she didn't so much as sneer at my weakling behavior. She only smiled softly. "And what must I do in return for such great generosity?" she asked in playfully grand tone.

"Well," I smirked. "I won't mind a little bit of a lecture on your beautiful planet, if you would be so kind."

She leaned heavily onto my shoulder. "Just call me 'Professor.'"

"An elected queen? Isn't that a bit oxymoronic?" I asked, perplexed.

"Oxymoronic? Big word for a self-proclaimed bumpkin," Saché chided with a giggle. She was well onto her forth drink and not nearly as drunk as I hoped she'd be.

"I have my moments," I admitted more playfully than I really felt. The din and smoke of the dark cantina were really beginning to bother me. I wanted to go back and see if Padmé was well.

"Ah. You're a mysterious one, Anakin Skywalker." She smiled brightly and took another sip. "We liked it, the whole system. It was so … wonderful. The queen was so regal, so amazing."

"What happened, then, to it all?" I asked, knowing it would not be an easy question to answer.

"I was a handmaiden, one of the queen's personal assistants, if you can believe that," she said mournfully. "We were guards, trained to be decoys if needed. The queen, Queen Amidala, she was so young. I didn't think it at the time, but, now that I look back, I think she might have been too young."

"How old was she?"

"Fourteen," she said. At my shocked look, she continued. "I was only thirteen. We elect our rulers young, when they are the most innocent, uncorrupted. She may have been, but she was also naïve. I think that's what led to this whole mess."

"Oh?" I prompted.

"Yes," she sighed dejectedly. "The Trade Federation blockaded the whole planet, invoking some silly trade disagreement that we weren't really having. With the Jedi's help, Amidala was able to escape and plead our case to the senate. We remained and were imprisoned."

My mouth widened slightly in horror. When I was younger, I used to believe that the galaxy was full of free beings, who could do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, and Tatooine was merely the odd exception to this rule. I especially thought in my preteen years, when Watto worked me the hardest, that it was this way because _I_ was born there. But living with Maecenas taught me otherwise. There are numerous types of slavery and an infinite multitude of bondages.

"It was no big deal, really," Saché said upon seeing my expression. "They encamped us, feed us ration bars. No, the really bad part was when the queen returned. The senate wouldn't lend any support, so she came back empty-handed with nothing but a pair of Jedi to help her out. She somehow managed to get the Gungans – a native race that lives in the swamps – to lead an assault against the Federation's army, while she tried to capture the viceroy." She paused and drank – this time a big gulp despite the strength of the alcohol. "The gungans were slaughtered to near extinction. The queen, well, rumor has it that she basically had the viceroy by the throat when a new battalion of battle droids rushed in. They just couldn't hold them off and they were captured."

"Not a happy ending," I observed morosely.

"No," she agreed, glancing down towards the table. "Afterwards, the Neimoidians broadcasted over the holonet … well, it wasn't the easiest thing to watch, but they … gathered up one citizen from each of the districts and lined them up and … killed them. They didn't show it, them killing them, but the holocam stayed focused on the queen's face through the whole thing. Just her face, only her face. She wasn't wearing makeup, either, and we … all just watched her reaction." She just brought her hand to her face, shielding it, and placed her elbows on the table.

"Gods, I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say. I bit the bottom of my lip, trying to contemplate the pure violence, pain, of such an event, what happens when someone is forced to see something that horrendous. I found myself drawing a blank. For everything that I had been through in my short life, I, thank the gods, never had seen any sort of genocide.

"It was a long time ago," she said softly. She wasn't crying, at least – her voice was too steady for that.

"Want another drink?"

"Hell yeah."

I ordered another round accordingly. She drank it, too, so fast that I was surprised she didn't throw up or pass out. But the alcohol calmed her nerves, perhaps taking the edge off of such a dark memory, and I was pleased at that.

"I think I wanna go home, Anakin," she finally said, her voice holding an odd combination of intoxication and depression. "Walk me?"

"Of course," I told her, but, despite the fact that I was quite sober, I still had my needs. "Give me a minute through; I need to use the 'fresher." She nodded blankly as I stood up and headed towards the back.

If you want a universal ideal to hold every planet to in the entire galaxy, a rule that must be followed by every species, race, and social class, it's that the refreshers in cantinas _must_ be so nauseating dirty that the customers will vomit whatever they've earlier consumed. But if you're reading this, it is most likely that you already know this fact, or will come to know it very soon. It's part of the job. So, moving on.

I met the strangest man in the 'fresher, which is the only reason I'm mentioning that little visit at all. He was perfectly normal in all discernible respects – human, average height, slightly stalky, auburn hair, beard. He looked at me when I walked in, his eyes following me even as I moved to wash my hands. He took the sink next to mine.

"You're the podracer, aren't you?" he asked me causally, glancing up at my reflection in the mirror. He had the most proper accent, which was a bit odd even for a planet as refined as Naboo – at least I hadn't heard anybody speaking like that here. "The one that won tonight?"

"Yeah," I answered, confused. I had only won one heat, and it wasn't even the last race of the night. Granted, I was human, and it made me stand out a little bit, I suppose, but the tone of his question struck me. It was almost confirmatory.

"Interesting," he said in turn, smiling in a way that was clearly fake, and turned off his faucet. He flicked his fingers, brushing the water off his hands – for the sinks were water, not sonic – and reached out to grab a nearby towel. But, instead of turning towards the dispenser on his left, he reached for the one hanging over my sink, on the right. I thought him crazy at the time, for he managed to slip on something a fall straight into me as he pulled out a towel.

I was barely able to support our two weights without taking a tumble myself, but, miraculously, we remained standing. I pushed him off my shoulder and held him at an arm's length away. I let him go when I was sure he could stay on his feet.

"Forgive me," he said sheepishly, wiping his hands on his hard-won towel. "I must have had a bit too much to drink." At that, he turned and walked out in a completely stable gait. I suppose it would be a worthless note to add that I didn't smell alcohol on his breath.

I shook my head, chalking the whole incident up to obsessive podracing fans, and returned to Saché.


	18. A New Friend

**Part Eighteen (12/04/05)**

The walk back to her place was wordless. We mumbled to each other only briefly about half way there – I to offer my outer jacket, since the night was a breezy one, and she to thank me for it. Being chivalrous has its advantages, I suppose, but I was beginning to wish my mother had been a little less insistent on the idea now that the chill was crawling across my shoulder blades.

The sounds of our footsteps echoed in the alleyway leading to her apartment and, for the moment, I could make out no other noise. I think I wanted my thoughts to be empty just then, and my heart to only be filled with the same rhythmic thumping that soles of my shoes were currently making.

When we arrived at her door, Saché paused and turned, studying me intently.

"Is this the point where you tell me it's been fun, but it's better if we stay good friends?" she asked, raising a coy eyebrow.

I was surprised less at the frankness of her speech and more at the accuracy of her perception. Very few women I had met – Padmé excluded, of course – had ever been able to see past the superficial or guess what I was thinking.

I thought over my reply, not wanting to either hurt her feeling or dismiss her insight.

"How could you guess?" I said, finding nothing better to say when the moment finally grew too heavy for me to bear.

"Gone from knocking back a dozen or so drinks one night to not tasting a single drop the next," Saché answered. She pressed the coat tighter against her chest and buried her hands in the pockets. "It doesn't take a Jedi to figure out something's changed. Hell, it barely takes a halfway observant bar maid. I'm curious about why, though. Another girl? Miraculous self-realization? Bad hangover? My constant jabbering? An intergalactic war from which you are the only savior?" She cracked a smile at that.

"Something along those lines, yeah." Her humor was infectious. I noted, in the back of my mind, that this, quite possibly, was the strangest breakup I had yet to be a part of.

"What?" she quipped. "Another girl or an intergalactic war?"

"You're the intuitive barmaid," I reminded her. "What do you think?"

"Well," she said, pausing dramatically as if contemplating. "I have had the intergalactic war used on me a few times by boys quite a bit more attractive than you, Anakin Skywalker. But, knowing you, I'm sure it's my constant jabbering."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she placed her index finger on my lip to stop me.

"Oh, no, my love," she whispered whimsically. "Do not spoil our painful departure by uttering anything further. Goodnight and farewell." With that she released me and spun around in a half circle. She didn't look back as she walked up the steps and entered the building, but, instead, simply left me standing alone on her doorstep.

What an incredibly odd girl. I wanted to say that aloud, but I held my tongue lest she or any of her neighbors would be able to hear me.

I walked, following the semi-familiar path that Padmé had laid out that morning, mulling to myself aimlessly. I would have liked to have been daydreaming about how one could possibly have a iinter/igalactic war when ours was, so far, the only galaxy known to have sentient life nearby, but my thoughts kept returning to more practical matters.

Was Padmé another girl? Was Padmé ithe/i other girl? What of Maecenas touching her?

My line of thought was finally broken by a faint whistling. At first it seemed like another young partier making a ruckus in a nearby alley, but as the sound became louder – or, rather, as I drew closer to it – it was obviously not human.

I rounded a corner towards the noise and found myself in a dark and crammed alley. Piles of trash were heaped up against the façade on either side, and various forms of waste fluttered in the light wind.

"Hello?" I called softly, against my better judgment. In bad neighborhoods, especially on ruined planets such as this one, thieves would use whatever ruse they could manage to catch you off guard. I had little credits in my possession, to be sure, but sometimes that was more of a death sentence than having too many.

Before I had time to regret my decision, however, the whistling turned into a sharp toot and then into a mournful, slow wail. It was most certainly a droid, an astromech, to be precise.

I edged closer, my curiosity overcoming any fear of bandits lurking in the shadows. The tooting was more rigorous, more excited.

There, at the very back of the way, perched despondently in the corner and half covered in garbage, was a blue and white artoo unit. It was smeared with grime, its front panel was busted, and its optical sensor was hanging down precariously by a few wires from its dome. It was in sad shape, but otherwise functional enough to still communicate.

"Are you the one making all this noise?" I found myself asking as I instinctively bent down to survey the damage up close.

A slow, nearly painful moan was my response. And, if a droid could feel pain, this one would be hurting. Someone had ripped the panel off and had apparently shoved a fist inside to rummage for valuable parts, perhaps not realizing that the most essential pieces were kept deep inside the mainframe. The core of the machinery, and everything that made up the droid's personality, still appeared to be intact.

"What happened, huh, little guy?" Astromechs didn't come cheap on any world, and Naboo was certainly no exception. Why somebody would throw away a perfectly serviceable artoo unit was beyond my understanding. A few repairs and he would be as good as new. I picked up the panel and gently stuck it back into place.

The droid bewailed his story, assuming, I guess, that I could automatically understand the whistling hoots of the astromech's programmed language. I could make out the gist of it, but I was no expert. Something about a family with an unruly child, being grabbed and kicked, and an electric shock probe feature that had previously been installed in his midriff.

And something about self-defense.

The family had abandoned him and he had found his way here, where fewer vermin were managing to chew at his exposed wiring. He was 'looking for a new master' – as he said himself – and offered his services to me.

"I don't know," I teased. "You're pretty beat up. What could I do with a dirty old droid?"

He responded bitterly, answering that he was not only in his prime of life but also could perform countless functions to anyone worthy of them. Worthy, of course, meaning whoever could fix him.

His tone was scathing and demanding, completely lacking the prissiness that was currently embedded in Threepio. It was refreshing. And, to be perfectly honest, I had wanted an astromech since I had begun my podracing career. What a fortunate turn of events, it seemed.

For both of us.

"Well, little guy," I said, "it seems we have ourselves a deal. I'm Anakin. Pleased to meet you." The droid beeped happily. "Artoo-Detoo it is then. Think you can move? My room isn't too far from here."

He lifted himself and rolled a bit, testing his mobility. Pieces of trash fell away from his body and he turned his dome, knocking the last flakes of rubbish off. I smiled and stood, leading the way back to the hotel.

The room was dark when I entered, to my surprise. The astromech – Artoo, I had immediately taken to calling him – was following me closely and had nearly bumped into my rear when I suddenly paused to turn on the lights. He whistled an apology.

"Oh, who's there?" came Threepio's familiar voice, less of in greeting and more in anxiousness.

"Me, Threepio."

The golden protocol droid appeared, coming out of my back bedroom. He stopped short, staring as dumbfounded as a droid possibly could at my new recruit.

"Why, hello," he said, inching forward to study the damaged astromech. "I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations. And who might you be?"

A tweet of greeting and a short introduction.

"It is very pleasant to meet you, Artoo-Detoo," Threepio returned. "But please do explain, what has happened to your board motivation sensor?"

"Artoo," I interrupted before the conversation between the protocol droid and astromech could escalate any further. "I don't have much here to repair you with, but I can recharge your fuel cells and reattach some lose circuits. That should hold you over until I can get to my ship and my toolkits."

Artoo beeped his satisfaction.

"Good," I replied, pointing towards my room. "Let's go–"

Padmé came out into the main room just then, causing an abrupt end to my speech and my movements. She had walked not out of the room she had chosen earlier in the day, but out of another – one I thought belonged to Maecenas.

I felt the lump raise in my throat, as I noticed her mode of dress. Usually she found a way of covering herself head to foot, but now she donned only a loose-fitting silk warp. I saw nearly more of her body then than when she was wearing that lacey bikini on Malastare.

"Um, hi," I said, unsure of what else I could possibly be saying.

She diverted her eyes way from mine, clearly ashamed. I knew in my gut just then that she had in fact been in ihis/i room. My stomach churned and I desperately attempted to quell my raising and heated emotions; less for the threat of my servile status and what Maecenas could possible do to me than for respect of Padmé. She won't want me to overreact.

"I'm going to use the 'fresher," she said flatly. "You don't mind, do you?" I shook my head fervently. She walked towards the refresher closest to our set of rooms. Pausing near the doorframe, she turned to me, flicking her gaze in my general direction but still avoiding my eyes. "We weren't expecting you back so early. He told me to tell you that Count Dooku has invited you to dinner tomorrow night."

"Fun," I mumbled in response. She nodded, clearly neither agreeing with me nor caring about my sarcasm. It was as if she was hardly aware of my presence, really. She walked into the 'fresher, closing the door behind her.

I sighed and led Artoo into my room as I had originally planed. I took off my shirt – it was too nice to work in – and threw it on the sleep couch, wondering how long it would take before this room became a mess like my Malastare quarters.

I glanced down at my right wrist, after scratching where it itched, and noticed a small pin prick, slightly red and irritated. I brought it up for closer observation and noticed a slight bump forming. Some native bug must have bit me on the walk back. It looked more irritated from the scratching than any sort of venom, so I gave the hesitant prognosis that I would live and sat down on the couch.

Taking my small toolkit, I began to attach various wires and boards back into place on Artoo. I heard the shower running in the background, but tried to block out the noise and concentrate on my current task.

Life seems so much simpler when you're fixing things. I'm good at fixing things ..


	19. Summarized Conclusion

**Author's note: **The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, but I think we all know the chances of me completing this fic dwindle as the years go by. Thus I present you with a summarized conclusion.

As far as ever fleshing out this fic, I don't want to get your hopes up. It's been a long, long time since I first conceived of it, and my interest in it has waned as I have changed as a person (and, like Shmi is so fond of saying, you can't really stop the change). But I think it's only fair that I should do my best to give you, my awesome readers, a conclusion.

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this fic throughout the years and I hope this meager conclusion gives you some sense of satisfaction.

So, without further ado, the end of _To Stop the Suns From Setting_:

* * *

**Final Part (10/14/06) **

The next day there was another racing semi-final, and I excelled once again. The whole day, what between my victory and my new repair work on Artoo, was going fairly well until dinner. I had almost forgot (okay, maybe it was slightly more intentional than a slip of the memory) that Maecenas and I were supposed to go to dinner with this Count Dooku.

I initially had nothing against the man, I just hate fancy parties. Padmé, on the other hand, practicality threw a temper tantrum when Maecenas forced her to accompany him. There was a moment of sheer terror – perhaps more on my part than hers – when Maecenas got that look in his eye. She relented, thankfully, before he struck her.

Dinner sucked, but are you surprised? The Count was ever the gentleman, trained in refined manners that even Maecenas wasn't entirely familiar with. Yes, he was kind and warm enough on the outside, but every time I was even remotely near him, I felt this vein of pure coldness shiver down my back. Maecenas was enjoying his company, though. That is until he started asking questions about me. Questions that Maecenas never wanted to answer. We left quickly, almost rudely, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that the Count was watching me, even after we were far out of his line of slight.

As the days went on, we found ourselves in a short lull. When no races to compete in, I was able to devote some time to repairing Artoo, who developed quite a pleasant relationship with Threepio. Padmé would sit with me on those days and we'd talk. I found myself growing closer to her even more, but was unsure of how to express it.

The day of the big race came all too soon. Thousands of Naboo crammed into the stadium to watch my assured victory (after all, I had one every single heat so far). And the race started off well enough; that is until a Neimoidian gun turret knocked me out of commission. Apparently, not the current government of Naboo thought it would be disastrous for a human to win their first podrace, not to mention the fact that many of the Naboo had bet on me, using government bonds to secure their funds.

I wasn't particularly surprised – that is how the game is played, after all. What annoyed me was that they waited until I was over the water to shoot me down, and that's just not fair. Ben Quadinaros was right, of course; I don't know how to swim. At all.

As I sunk to the bottom, drowning, the oddest shapes started to appear in the murky water. It was me with wavy hair, holding a lasersword, which was little more than a series of particularly blue bubbles. I was fighting an army and leading an army. I blinked slowly as water started to fill my lungs, unsure if it was the future or a reality that could never be. And, to tell you the truth, I didn't really care at that point, because I was about to die. I was simply glad that I got to witness something so amazing before my time came.

I thought I had fallen unconscious, but I'm not really sure. The next thing I remembered was being dragged out of the water and onto the shore, coughing up mouthfuls of water as I went. The crazy guy from the refresher at the bar had saved me and, before I could say anything, he introduced himself as Obi-Wan Kenobi. He told me that my life was in danger here, that Dooku was going to attempt to kill me. I asked why, how he knew this.

Then things started getting really unbelievable. He said that he was a Jedi, that Dooku was something called a Sith, and that I was the fabled "Chosen One," whose sole purpose was to destroy the Sith and bring balance to "the Force." Riiiiight.

He ordered me to come with him, and told me that I would not survive Dooku's wrath if I stayed. I pushed him away. Never mind that I couldn't go anywhere with my slave transmitter still attached, I simply didn't trust him. Luckily, before he could get too forceful, the stadium's med team arrived to check for injures and to take me back to the pit. Obi-Wan fled.

The pod hangar was a mess of people. Apparently my loss had started a riot – the Naboo had readily realized that the Neimoidians had set them up, and they weren't going to take it. It was a full out rebellion by the time I found Padmé and Threepio.

Maecenas had left to ready the ship and Padmé had stayed in the pit to collect me. As much as it hurt that my pod was absolutely totaled, it was a relief that we could leave it at the bottom of the river and not have to waste the time hauling it onto the ship. As we left the hangar, crowds on people were violently fighting off their oppressors throughout the stadium. I grabbed Padmé's hand and led her through an abandoned alleyway, hoping that we wouldn't get caught in the riot.

We were almost completely out of the stadium's range when a familiar voice caused me pause. It was Saché and she was attempting to return the outer tunic I had given her on our last date. She had tried to give it to me sooner, she said, but she didn't know where I was staying nor could she go into the pit with all the battle droids guarding it.

I accepted it gratefully, but was surprised when Saché's eyes widened in shock. She recognized Padmé as the former Queen Amidala, bowing in her presence and begging her to say where she had been all these years. Padmé, with tears in her eyes, was unable to answer. She yanked on my hand, pulling me towards the ship.

My mind was attempting to process what I had learned – Padmé a Queen! – as we jogged to the spaceport. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't feel the warning until it was almost too late – Count Dooku had appeared out of nowhere and took a swipe at my chest with a red lasersword. I jumped back, barely missing it.

Dooku circled me, even though I was unarmed, hissing in anger. His master wanted me, he said, his master wanted to replace him with "a new model." I didn't know what he was talking about, who his master was, or by what form of slavery he was indentured, and I didn't really care. I was scared and I wanted out of there.

With timing meant for a holodrama, Obi-Wan came to our rescue, wielding a blue lasersword. Okay, so maybe he wasn't crazy. Maybe he was telling the truth. I didn't have time to ponder it or even to thank him, really, for saving my life yet again. He yelled at me to run and I did so, grabbing Padmé on my way.

We entered hyperspace without much fanfare. Maecenas ceremoniously knocked me around, for losing the pod and for my upcoming meeting with the Larses, but his heart really wasn't in it. He left us alone for the remainder of the journey.

Padmé helped me bandage the wounds I had received both from Maecenas and from the crash, and she finally, sadly, told me her story.

She had been a young, elected Queen when the Trade Federation had evaded her home. She had escaped with the aid of two Jedi and had flown to Coruscant to plead before the senate. But they didn't believe her, and she was forced to return to Naboo to take matters into her own hands. The Jedi returned with her, and she even managed to raise an army out of the native Gungan population. But it simply wasn't enough. Although she captured the Viceroy, the battle droids had eventually broken through and arrested her. The Gungan troops, meant to be a diversion, were utterly massacred when the Queen's fighters had failed to knock out the droid control ship.

Meanwhile, the Jedi found themselves face-to-face with a black robed monster wielding a red 'lightsaber' like Dooku's. They had fought to the death with the creature, and only one of the Jedi returned – the student. Obi-Wan Kenobi himself. We both baulked at that little twist. He had been set free and returned to the Jedi Order as a sign of the Neimoidians' good faith towards the Republic. The rest of Naboo, however, wasn't so lucky. The surviving Gungans were wiped out, while the humans were sent into forced labor. After having to endure numerous executions of her own people, Padmé herself had been sent into slavery as one final, last insult.

She cried in my arms when she finished her story, and I did my best to comfort her. I was out of my league, though. What right did I have to hold a Queen?

Owen and Cliegg met us at the docking bay in Mos Espa. They offered the usual amount to buy me off Maecenas' hands, and then some. He just laughed at them and told me that I'd better have another racer ready by the time the season started. Then he took Padmé, much to my horror, off to see if Jabba the Hutt wanted a new dancing girl.

Owen immediately offered to help me find and fix up a replacement pod, for which I was grateful, while Cliegg continued to call Maecenas every sort of vulgarity he knew in every tongue he knew on the way back to the homestead. I was happy to be reunited with my mother and the Larses, but the weight of Padmé's fate made it bittersweet.

While fixing up a new pod, Owen told me about the girl he had recently begun dating, Beru, and actually asked for romantic advice. As if I would know anything useful. She came over for dinner the next night and I could see the love, affection, and admiration in the young couple's eyes.

I made a decision then. I asked my family if I could have the funds they had saved to free me so that I could free Padmé from the clutches of Jabba. They didn't immediately agree, but I reminded them that it would never be enough credits for Maecenas. That the best thing that they could do for me was free the woman I had fallen in love with.

Yes, I had fallen in love with her.

I convinced them, and Owen accompanied me to Jabba's palace. Jabba let Padmé go for the credits we'd offered with one catch – I was to throw the Boonta Eve in favor of his champion. No problem, I said, with pleasure. I had honestly thought Jabba's deal would have been much worse. He let Padmé go that day, and she came with us, none the worse for wear, back to the homestead.

She pried me for the reasons behind my generous deed, but I couldn't think of an appropriate response that didn't involve telling her how I felt. So I remained quiet. The days to the Boonta Eve drew near and my work on my pod was almost complete. While Owen and Cliegg treated Padmé with disquiet, she, my mother, and Beru had formed a fast friendship, and the women had offered her a place in the Lars home.

One night, after I had dragged myself away from my pod and into bed, Padmé came to me. She told me that Beru had hinted at my feelings for her and she had managed to put the pieces together. Turning away in embarrassment, I told her that I merely wished for her to be free, so that she could make a difference in the galaxy once again.

She pulled me towards her and kissed me. I backed way, surprised and feeling unworthy, but she kissed me again. And I knew her then, knew her heart, really, and could tell that the kiss was genuine. It wasn't out of pity, or gratitude, or mere lust. She really loved me, as I loved her. She stayed the night in my room.

The next morning found me going to Mos Eisley to pick out more parts for my pod. There I ran into an old friend: Obi-Wan Kenobi. Mindful of the stories Padmé told of his kindness and trustworthiness and the fact that he had already saved my life twice, I confided in him. I told him of my slavery, the podracing, Maecenas, and Padmé. He reiterated his offer to protect me from the Sith, and I accepted on the condition that Padmé could come, too.

We just need a plan for my escape from Maecenas. Since buying me was out of the question, we decided to steal my remote transmitter. It was going to have to be soon, because the tide of things was turning towards an even darker wave now that Palpatine had declared himself Emperor. But we would have to wait until after Boonta Eve, since having a Hutt bounty hunter on my trail wouldn't make for such a great start. We worked out the details and I went back to the homestead to inform Padmé of our plans. She was ecstatic about being reunited with Obi-Wan, but was also worried that our plan would go awry. I reassured her: Obi-Wan was going to simply mind trick Maecenas. The theft should be quick, easy, and nonviolent.

Boonta Eve came, and I threw the race as I had promised. Avoiding Maecenas, Obi-Wan and I took the back ways through the city towards Maecenas' estate. But, before we had gotten half way there, Dooku was waiting for us. This time he didn't even bother with idle conversation. As they fought, I looked for a way to help Obi-Wan, but the Jedi was insistent that I find the transmitter and make my way off planet, with or without him. Reluctantly, I did as I was told.

Maecenas' estate was empty as I ransacked it. There was no sign of the transmitter, even in his private office. I was at my wit's end – fearing for Obi-Wan and my own safety – when I heard Maecenas come in.

"Looking for this?" he asked, holding a transmitter in his left hand the whip in the other. He knew that I rigged the race and freed Padmé, but, this time, no mere punishment would suffice. He had grown tired off his Skywalker investment, and would like nothing more than to see it go out with a bang. He turned on the self-destruct, giving me thirty seconds to live.

I tried to approach him, but the cracking whip kept me at a safe distance, while he mocked me and filled in the details of his brief relationship with Padmé. In a rage, I grabbed the whip with one hand and reached out towards Maecenas with my other, making a motion to choke him. And, without me even touching him, I saw the breath seep out of his lungs. He dropped the whip and the remote and fell to the ground, clutching his throat. Within seconds, he was dead.

It was only after I had deactivated the remote that I turned to Maecenas' body in horror. What had I done? More importantly, how had I done it? I remembered the feeling, the power, the absolute control I held in the tips of my fingers, and the rush it gave me. I felt cold from it now, after the fact, but a part of me wanted to feel that way again.

Obi-Wan had killed Dooku, and was injured from the fight, but he would live. He looked a little fried, literally, but I chose to keep my comments to myself as I helped him back to his ship.

The suns were setting as we made our way to the homestead to collect Padmé. I watched the sky turn from gold to red to pink as we said our good byes to my family. Anxiety for the future filled me. For the first time in my life I was free and my path was no longer set. Overnight, everything had changed and nothing would ever be the same again.

Sensing my fear, my mother comforted me then, reminding me that change was a part of life, and that you couldn't stop it anymore than you could stop the suns from setting.

I looked at Padmé. The last flecks of pink sunlight highlighted her beautiful face as a cool breeze fluttered around her hair. And I realized, as the light completely faded, that I wouldn't want to.

I took her hand and boarded the ship.

Now I suppose you want me to continue my tale; to tell you about when I finally married Padmé or the birth of the Twins, perhaps. But these are things that could be gathered from any youngling textbook on Imperial history. In a way, they are no longer really mine to tell. They belong to the galaxy now.

But this story is mine, and it is my gift to you now that I can tell it.


End file.
